Wayward Girl

In-between working on an epic story (in the original sense of the word) that I’m posting elsewhere, I had the sudden inspiration to type up a different kind of fantasy. I suppose I’m going for a rollercoaster of emotions, ambivalence, good character dynamics… You be the judge of that.

Wayward Girl
The car rolls smoothly up the driveway and stops. When she grabs for the seat belt, he puts his hand firmly over hers. She lets go and turns her youthful face to him, uncertain. “Did you go before we left?” He says. He shouldn’t have to ask. She’s old enough, but still he needs to be sure.

She shakes her head. “I didn’t have to…” She begins.

He gives her the look. The one that says she better listen. “Then I think you should go first thing once we’ve done the introductions.”

She bites her lip. It’s something she does when she’s unsure if she can get away with being sassy. “I told you, I don’t need to…”

“Will you do it, for me?” His tone is milder now. “I don’t want to worry about you all evening.”

She sighs, resigned. “I’m not a child, you know,” she says.

“I know, sweetie. I know.” He lets his hand linger on hers, then he exits the car, and before she has time to do anything else, he’s opened the car door for her, unbuckled her seat belt, and stretched out his hand for her to take.

“That’s very gentlemanly of you,” she says as he helps her out of the car.

“You know me.”

She looks a little nervous, tapping her foot. “You think they’ll like me?” Her voice cracks. He knows she gets nervous like this. It’s one of the paradoxes that so fascinate him: how she can be so brazen and sassy, and yet to so insecure and nervous at the same time. That’s what it’s like to be young, he supposes. He grabs her hand firmly, and together they walk to the door.

She rings the bell, and they can hear some commotion inside. Soft, easy-listening music is faintly heard through the window. Then the door opens. Two smiling faces, him bearded and in his thirties, her slightly younger, dressed in a tight-fitting red dress.

“Mark!” The woman in the dress says. “So good to see you! And you must be Casey!” She moves in for a hug. Casey appears startled at first, but her shoulders relax into the hug. “Ooh, I like your perfume,” says the woman. “You have to tell me what brand it is.”

“Don’t stand there in the cold,” says the man. “Do come in.” He shakes Mark’s hand.

They move through a small entree into a spacious living room, with a shiny white sofa and an assortment of lit candles spread around the living room table and on a small round table in a corner. A fire is crackling in the fireplace, and through an open door they can see a dinner table set for four.

“Casey, this is Amelia and Connor, good friends of mine,” Mark says.

“Nice to meet you,” Casey says. She’s so cute when she gets shy. Mark has grabbed her hand again, and now he gives her a squeeze. A gentle reminder of their agreement. But Casey seems too shy to speak up.

“Say, Amelia, would you show Casey the bathroom?” Mark says. Casey blushes deeply, but Amelia, ever chipper, loops her arm around Casey’s and leads her down a hallway. Mark breathes a sigh of relief. Crisis averted. Now he doesn’t need to worry about that for the rest of the night.

Dinner is steak, with red on the side. Once she’s had her first glass, Casey’s back in control, laughing, telling stories. All she needs is a little push, he thinks, and she’s back in her element.

“So tell me all about it!” Amelia says. “How did you two meet?”

“We met in a bar, actually,” Mark says. “We hit it off straight away. Everything’s gone kind of fast. This one’s a little impulsive,” he says, nudging his girlfriend.

“I envy you,” Connor says. “Remember when we used to go to on road trips just because?”

Amelia shrugs. “I remember quite a few mishaps along the way, too,” she says. “I think some people are just made to settle down.”

“Oh, I think everyone’s got a little adventure in them, young or old,” Casey says. She has that glint in her eye. “Would you pass me the wine?”

Mark and Connor lapse into job talk, which frankly bores him—Casey’s enthusiasm must have rubbed off on him. A year ago, he wouldn’t mind talking shop with an old friend. But now, his thoughts wander. Mergers and office politics seem so… pedestrian. Life with Casey has corrupted him. Sometimes he wonders whether it’s himself or her he needs to be protective of.

By the time the evening’s drawing to a close, Casey is well and truly drunk. Mark is driving, so he only had a little sip. As they’re saying their goodbyes, he glances over at Casey. She doesn’t notice. His girlfriend doesn’t make a pit stop before they leave. He wonders if he should say something, but she’s a big girl. He did make her go when they arrived.

“Wow!” Casey says as they pull onto the road. “Your friends are really nice. Amelia is so classy. I think they liked me. Do you think they liked me?”

He glances over. Her eyes are a little glazed over, the classic drunk look, but she appears awake and coherent. And happy. “Of course they did, love.”

She crosses her legs and fishes her phone out of her purse. They don’t speak much on the way home. Casey bounces her legs. He pretends not to notice, but he knows what that means. Mark takes a chance and pushes a bit past the speed limit. Familiar houses start appearing, and then they’re home.

Casey bounces out of her seat and runs to the front door. She scrambles through her purse, a little panicked. Mark whistles at her and waves his keys in the air.

“Goddammit,” Casey says.

“Now, now,” Mark says. He’s at the door now. “You can wait one minute, can’t you, dear?”

Casey is wearing her finest black dress, but right now it’s all bunched up between her crossed legs.

“Will you just unlock it already?” She says. She’s clearly annoyed. Once the key is in the door, she sprints in, not even bothering to kick off her shoes. He’ll have to remind her of that.

Mark takes his time undressing, then reclines down into a chair. He has a perfect view down the hallway. She can’t avoid him when she comes out.

Five minutes pass, then five more. Finally, Casey peers out the door. She seems startled to see him watching her.

“Come over here a second, baby,” he says.

“I was just gonna slip on something…”

“Later, baby. Just come over here for me real quick.”

Her steps are uncertain. She keeps her gaze at the floor. Mark opens his arms and motions for her to sit on his lap. She flinches, but does as he asks.

“Now, I know you don’t like this part, but I have to ask,” he says.

The warmth of her bum on his lap is stirring something in him. He longs to lift her up and carry her to the bedroom, but this is important.

“What?” She says.

“Did you make it?”

She turns away from him. He places his hand gently on her neck and turns her so that her eyes met his. She’s blushing.

“Oh for fuck’s—not this again,” she says.

He repeats his question, with emphasis on every word. “Sweetie. Did you make it?”

Her gaze waivers. She can’t look him in the eye. “Of course I did. No need to ask.”

Mark slips a hand underneath her dress. She tenses up. “Mark, I told you—”

He moves his hand along her thigh until he makes contact with wet fabric. Her entire posture slumps, defeated. “Young lady,” Mark says. “Is this what you call making it?”

“It was only…” She can’t seem to find the words.

“Show me,” he commands. He lifts her off his lap and turns her around so she’s facing him. “Show me.”

A deep blush spreads across her cheeks. He can’t help it. He shouldn’t think like this, but she’s unbearably cute like this, helpless and embarrassed.

Casey slowly lifts up her dress. What she reveals is a pair of pantyhose clearly damp in the crotch. He moves to lower her pantyhose, and she follows his lead, staring straight at the floor. She lowers the pantyhose all the way down and steps out of them. Mark puts out a hand and touches her once pink panties. Now they’re dark red and soaking.

“I’m sorry,” she begins.

Mark’s pants couldn’t possibly get tighter in the crotch. But he can’t let himself get carried away. “Baby, we talked about this.”

“I’m sorry, it was an accident.”

“I’m not mad that you had an accident.”

Her big, green eyes meet his. “You’re not?”

“I’m disappointed that you didn’t even try. Why didn’t you go before we left?”

She’s tearing up. He hates seeing her like this. It’s all he can do not to give up on the whole strict routine and just hug her tightly. Clearly, she doesn’t know how to respond.

“I think you deliberately didn’t go.”

“I thought I could hold it. I really did! Look, most of it went in the toilet!”

“Does that mean there’s a puddle for me to clean up?”

A tear escapes her, then a suppressed sob that turns into a sniffle. “Baby, we’ve got to get this under control. We’re going to come to an agreement that both of us can be satisfied with. Okay?”

She nods.

This is enough for tonight, he thinks. He grabs hold of her and begins carrying his wet girlfriend toward the bedroom. She nestles in close to his shoulder. He has her strip out of the wet clothes, and then he fetches a towel from the bathroom. She tries to grab it, assumes it’s for her. He shakes his head. “You’re sleeping on this tonight.”

“Mark, god, I’m not gonna piss the bed!”

“That’s final. Now, I think I know a girl who needs a good cuddle. Isn’t that right?”

He places the towel down, and her on top of it. She’s a foot shorter than him and easy to handle. Mark lays down on the other side of the bed and starts playing with her hair. She places her head on his chest. He kisses her goodnight and turns out the lights. Tomorrow, he’s going to figure out a solution to all this. Not tonight.

Casey is nearly a decade younger than him, nineteen—soon to the twenty, she is keen to remind him—and a bit of a wild child. Legal in every sense of the word, but young at heart. They’ve been together for a year now. She pretty much unilaterally decided to move in with him, moving more and more of her stuff to his place until he finally got tired of pussyfooting around and gave her a key. The one she had forgotten last night, which might have been the cause of her latest mishap. Sometimes, Mark feels a bit guilty about being with her—as if he were taking advantage of a child. But then she’ll surprise him by casually quoting Sartre like it’s nothing, and reminds him that it’s possible to be two things at once: a somewhat responsible, if messy adult, and also a child-like soul. He can’t decide which part he loves more. Early on, though, he realized that as the older and more experienced of the two, it was his responsibility to, not raise her—hopefully her parents had done that job well enough—but certainly guide her into the world of adult responsibility.

This latest little hick-up had begun last month. Casey does college part time; two days of the week, she works as Mark’s assistant at his company, which is mostly a way for him to keep her busy. That, and perhaps give her some valuable work experience. He’s not rich, but on occasion, a man has to spoil his princess. Casey had aced an exam, and he’d agreed to take her shopping. She was excited like a child before Christmas, and they’d spent hours wandering clothing stores. Casey had been sipping on one beverage or another the whole time—not that Mark really took note of it until later. Finally, five hours into their shopping trip, Mark had had enough. “One more store, that’s where you get whatever you’re gonna get,” he’d said. Casey merrily skipped into a high-end, expensive store, because of course she would.

“Don’t you think these would look cute on me?” She said, holding up a pair of jeans. Mark had nodded. Anything would look good on his girl, and frankly he was looking forward to ending this trip. Men and women have a different perception of time when it comes to shopping.

They found the fitting rooms, but it was a busy day—Christmas season was just starting up—and there was a line. Casey looked increasingly impatient, tapping her feet, shifting her weight back and forth as the line progressed. Finally, there was an opening and she ran in with her jeans. Mark leaned back on a counter and waited. Surely she’d go for these ones and they’d be done for the day. He needed a beer after this ordeal.
Then there was a little squeal from inside the fitting room, and a meek voice: “Mark…”

Concerned, he ducked his head inside the curtains. Mark had not expected to find what he did. His girlfriend, squeezed into her expensive new designer jeans—with a very obvious wet spot between her legs, and mascara running down her face. “Mark, I—”

A range of emotions flooded him. One, concern. Of course. But most of all—how could she? She was nineteen, a grown woman! Now he’d have to… “Not a word,” he said. That was the least impolite thing he could think of. “Put on the pants you came in and then come out.”

A few moments later, she was out of the fitting room, back in her dry pants. He grabbed her hand firmly and began dragging her towards the nearest counter. “Mark, please, I—”

“I don’t want to hear another word from you until we’re home.”

He brushed past a middle-aged lady, leading his girlfriend like a child. “Excuse us, miss,” he said to the clerk. “My girlfriend had a little accident in the fitting room. We’d like to buy these.” He laid the stained jeans on the counter.

The young girl working the counter looked surprised, but she quickly regained her composure and rang them up, then put the wet jeans in a shopping bag, making sure not to touch the soiled crotch. Mark paid the price—well above what he had expected to shell out today—and then he began dragging Casey towards the exits.

“Mark…” She tried one more time. He put a finger to her lips. She looked petrified, and who could blame her?

She didn’t say anything on the way home. Not until they were nearly there, when she gasped loudly. Mark looked over in time to see a waterfall appear between her legs, quickly soaking into the seating, then pitter-pattering over the edge onto the floorboards. Casey began to sob. “I tried to tell you, I still needed to go!”

He didn’t have the heart to scold her. Instead, he took her to the shower, and then he went outside to scrub the car seat.

That evening, he tried to get her to explain, but she would only say that it was an accident, that she didn’t know what happened. Mark decided that being paraded around a mall carrying wet jeans was punishment enough. He certainly didn’t expect it to happen again.

It did. A couple of weeks later, on a lazy Sunday morning, Casey was sat half-dozing in front of the telly. Mark was headed to the shower. He called over, “Hey, hon, I’m taking a shower, you need the bathroom?” She had shook her head and turned back to her reality show.

Once Mark reemerged from the bathroom, he almost bumped into her. She’d been standing right outside the bathroom, and a tell-tale trail of pee followed her down the hall, leading up her thighs to a very obviously wet pajama-crotch.

This time, he was concerned. “Oh, baby,” he’d said. “You go have a shower. I’m gonna call and get you a doctor’s appointment on Monday. Something’s not right. You’ve probably caught a UTI or something.”

She wouldn’t look at him. Her voice was very, very little. “Mark, it’s not that.”

“It’s not what?”

“It’s nothing medical.”

Mark didn’t know what to think. “What do you mean? You did this just to annoy me?”

She sobbed. “No, no, please, I’m sorry. It’s just… I never meant for this to happen. I just enjoy it. I enjoy… The feeling of a full bladder. I never meant for it to go in my pants.”

Casey can be quite exhibitionistic. She loves to give him a peak at her underwear in places that aren’t quite proper. He knew she had a kinky streak—and to be honest, so does he. He likes being in control. But he’d never expected this.

“Go clean up. We’ll talk about this later,” was all he managed. Since then, he’d taken care to remind her to go, however infantile it might seem to remind your grown girlfriend to go potty. Then came the dinner party and the wet ending, and that brought him to this. Today.

Mark really wasn’t sure if he could go through with it. It seemed wrong, somehow. And he knew there’d be a fight about it. No question. Casey would not let this slip quietly. But he had to do something. He wanted to let her explore her kinks, but he also didn’t want her to further embarrass herself, or him. She’d been devastated by her accidents; clearly, it was the build-up that excited her, and her actual failure of control was a humiliating defeat. But Casey clearly wasn’t as in control as she thought. When Mark considered it, she must have a rather a party bladder. Rarely did she excuse herself to the restroom, and in their year together, she had never once failed to get home dry. Not until this past month.

With heavy steps, he carries his bags inside and sets them on the kitchen table. He had bought them. He had to do something. When it came down to it though, it was hard to find the courage.

“Baby, come here,” he says. He knows she’s home, somewhere. Casey leans around the corner, wearing only a loose top and some yoga pants.

“What is it, Mark?” She asks.

“Come sit down,” Mark says. Commands.

She does as she’s told.

“Baby, you know I love you,” he begins.

“Come on, please don’t say that,” she says. “That sounds like the preamble to something horrible. You selling me off to a trafficker to pay off your drug debt or something?” She tries to make a joke of it, but it falls flat.

“Baby, it’s about your accidents.”

Her face reddens.

“I want us to be able to explore this thing of yours safely. No more tears. No more me worrying every time we go out. Okay? This is for us.”

What’s for us?”

Moment of truth. Mark opens one bag, then another. The first holds a pink package of pull-on absorbent underwear for teens. Casey’s slim, he knows they’ll fit. The other package is white and contains heavier-duty diapers, with the words “FOR NIGHT-TIME USE” prominently displayed on the package.

Predictably, the mood in the room explodes. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Casey rises, ready to storm out of the room, but he grabs her arm and restrains her.

“Young lady, sit down and hear me out.” She sits. Bites her lip. Considers whether another lashing-out will serve her well or not.

“You like to hold it, right? You like the feeling? But you hate to wet yourself. You hate the humiliation, you hate me scolding you. I don’t like to see you cry. I want you to be able to practice your kink safely and cleanly. So this is how it’s going to work. If you want to put it off to get off, you wear one of these. That’s it. That’s how it’s gonna go.”

She sits there silently for a while. Considers her words carefully. “You can’t make me,” she says, finally. Her pout is adorable. He suppresses a smile.

“No, I can’t, and yes, I can. Remind me whose house you’re living in?”

“Yours,” she says.

“And who is your boyfriend?”

“You, silly.”

“I just wanted to hear you say it. If you want those two things to continue as before, then you have a choice. Either you lay off on your experiments—that’s fine by me—or you choose to protect yourself in case you overestimate your capabilities. Like you’ve done now, what, three times the last month?”

Casey rises. “Please,” she pleads.

“I love you, and I’m doing this for you. Don’t you think most boyfriends would be disgusted by what you’ve done?”

Her eyes tear up. “Baby, don’t cry.” Mark walks over and gives her shoulders a squeeze. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not disgusted. I mean, I don’t know how to feel—maybe I’ll even grow to like it. But this is how we do it. Are you with me?” Casey looks much younger than she is, in this moment. Like a lost little girl. She nods.

“You better have gotten me some high-quality shit,” she says. “This princess ain’t getting pampered in nothing but premium fucking diapers.”

The tension in his shoulders eases. The hard part is over. “Oh, but you are my princess, aren’t you?”

She pretends to hide behind her fingers. “I’m not a baby, Mark.”

“No, you’re far too naughty for that, young lady.”

Casey walks over and touches the pack of pull-ups. “So are these like…?”

“Those are the kind you can pull up and down. The other kind has tapes and it’s built to take a soaking.”

“I…” The way she’s looking at the pull-ups has changed. What was once disgust, then defiance, has given away to something else. Curiosity?

Mark decides that it’s time to spice things up. This is a kink for her, after all. And truth be told, being in control is his kink. He loves to humiliate her, but he hates to see her cry—she doesn’t enjoy it the way he does. But perhaps in this strange, confused thing they have going on, they can find some middle ground to satisfy them both.

“Princess, did you go pee-pee today?” It’s late evening. If she hasn’t gone today, she must be bursting.

“Don’t talk like that,” she says. “Like I’m two.”

“Baby, have you been to the toilet today?” A little difference in tone.

“Not since this morning.”

“Girl, you must be bursting,” Mark says. A little laugh escapes him. “Would you like to try one on?”

Their eyes meet, and he knows she wants it. She might have a little trouble swallowing her pride, but part of her is excited. Not to wear something so juvenile, perhaps, but for something else—to live out her fetish with the enthusiastic support of a lover. Mark guesses this is something she’s done in secret all her life, well, as long as she’s been sexually aware anyway. “Take off your pants and panties,” Mark says. “I’ll help you put them on.”

Casey hesitates, but then she complies. Her yoga pants come off, then her panties. She hands them to him, as if to prove she’s still dry. He takes a moment to admire her shaved pussy, but that can come later. If things go the way he hopes, she’ll be in heat by tonight. Mark unwraps the package of pull-ups and then helps her step into it. He pulls it up her hips, and it fits surprisingly snuggly. Casey has a small frame, although she’s got it where it counts.

She looks down at her infantile new undergarment. Puts a hand to it and pushes it into her sex, just to see what it feels like. Then she bends down to pick up her yoga pants.

“Nuh-uh,” Mark says. “No pants.”

“What! You can’t expect me to walk around in just… a diaper!”

“Baby, we’re home alone. No one’s going to see. But I need to be able to check if you’re wet.”

Casey stomps her foot. The gesture was probably meant to be definite, defiant, mature, but it comes across like a childish tantrum. It’s hard to look mature when all you’re dressed in is a loose top and a diaper. “I am not going to pee myself! You know I don’t like that. I told you, I’m strictly into holding.”

“Well, never say never. I mean, you’ve been an accident prone little girl lately.”

“Mark, for the second time, don’t take that tone with me. Please don’t infantilize me… Any more than I already am. Look at me.” She twirls around, giving him a good look at her pampered bum.

“I’m sorry, baby. It’s just, you look so cute right now. I can’t help but tease you a bit. I’m sorry if I hurt you.” Unbidden tears start welling up in his eyes. It suddenly hits him what he’s done—how far he’s gone. He knows she’s not into humiliation. She knows he is, and she’s made it clear to him that it’s a no-go.

She steps over and gives him a hug. He needed that. “Baby,” she whispers. “I’m not that offended. No need to cry for me. I am a very naughty girl, you know.”

He gives her a little smack on her pampered rear. “Off you go and play, then, or whatever it is you do when you’re holding. But I’m keeping an eye on you.”

She walks over to the coach and lies down. “Actually, I’ve been up since six this morning,” she says. “I’m kind of tired. Do you mind?”

She loves to lie with her head in his lap. It’s probably the most affectionate she ever gets outside the bedroom. He positions himself so that she can lay down, and then he switches on the television. A few minutes pass in silence. He looks down and sees that she’s got that glazed-over, serene, sleepy look on her face. She’s lost in her own world, in his body heat and in the cushions. Mark’s getting sleepy himself. The next time he looks down, her eyes are closed, and her breathing is slow, regular. She’s asleep.

The TV can’t hold his attention today. When he looks down at his diapered girlfriend, new, unfamiliar emotions wash over him. Casey’s always looked young, and innocent when she’s not being deliberately naughty, but this sleeping princess is something else. She’s got an irresistible aura—a combination of innocence and, well, if he’s honest, sex. He can feel his groin stir, and hopes it doesn’t wake her.
Then it happens. A low sound, increasing in intensity and loudness. A hiss. He looks over with wide eyes as his girlfriend’s diaper expands with a day’s worth of urine. The little flowers on the front fade, and the back puffs out. He’s beginning to wonder if it’s gonna leak, but then the diaper stops expanding.

He’s got a full-on erection now and he doesn’t even know why. This has never been a kink to him. He didn’t even know it was a thing. When Mark thought of pee play, he was picturing golden showers. Not this. Not his princess in a wet diaper, sleeping in his lap. Should he wake her?

Mark nudges at Casey. “Baby,” he says.

“Hmmm?”

“Baby, you had an accident.”

She opens her eyes. She’s still not quite awake, but the shock and embarrassment is apparent on her face. “Shit, I… I fell asleep and…”

“Baby,” Mark coos. “That’s what diapers are for.”

She sits up with a squish. “I’m sorry, I…” She struggles for words.

“Shush,” Mark says. “Let’s get you into a clean one and ready for bed.”

“I don’t need, really…”

“I know, baby.” Mark looks deep into her eyes. “I know you don’t need one. But do you want one?”

She stays silent, but her eyes say yes.

“Up you go, baby girl,” Mark says, and places his hands behind her wet padding. He lifts her up, and she wraps her feet around his abdomen. He carries her over to the bedroom.

“Mark, I’m dirty,” she says.

“I can help you with that.”

“I’m not a baby,” she repeats. It’s almost to the point of being a catchphrase.

“No, you’re not a baby baby, but you’re my baby,” Mark says. He’s having trouble articulating just what is going on, but it feels right. Without thinking, he places her on the bed and rips the sides off the wet pull-up. The absorbent material is puffy and yellow. “My, this baby’s had quite the accident,” he says.

“Stop it,” Casey says, but then she giggles. “I mean that’s nothing compared to the clothing store.” She pokes her tongue out at him.

“Well, I want you to be protected tonight, babe,” Mark says. “Wait here.”

When he returns with one of the tape-on diapers, she’s still there, naked from the waist down, with the folded-up evidence of her accident on prominent display. “Now, I want you to lift your bottom,” Mark says.

She looks at him askew. “Mark, this is really weirding me out.”

He leans in and kisses her. He takes his time, teasing her, letting her lean up to meet his lips. “Baby, to be honest, it’s weirding me out too. But it feels right. Does it feel wrong to you?”

She considers it. Shakes her head. “No, Mark. It’s weird as fuck but it feels so good.”

“Now be a good girl and lift that wet bum of yours for me.”

She lifts her herself into the “diaper change” position, and he slides the thick new padding under her. Then he brings forth a wet wipe and teases her clit a bit before wiping her down, powdering her up, and taping the diaper fast.

Mark looks down at his handiwork. In one day, his girlfriend has gone from a sassy almost-twenty-year-old to a girl who gets her wet diaper changed before bed. He smiles.

Casey drags him down into bed with her.

“Now, I don’t want you leaving this bed until morning,” Mark says. “Then I’ll change you again, if you need one.”

Casey wrinkles her brow. “But Mark, what if I have to go?”

“Then you go. This thing can handle it, and so can I.”

“No, I mean, what if I have to go go?”

“Oh.” He really hadn’t thought of that. Mark supposes he’ll have to give her an out. “I wasn’t thinking. Of course you can…”

“Mark?” She whispers.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know why, and it’s weird as fuck, but this feels so good. The way you care for me.”

“I’m glad. I was terrified you’d…”

“Would you be disgusted with me?”

“What?” Mark is confused. Disgusted? He just changed a pissy diaper!

“Would. You. Be. Disgusted? If something else happened…”

Oh. Are you serious?”

“Would you?” She’s anxious.

“Princess, I’d never be disgusted with you. But I mean, like, do you think…?”

“I haven’t been in two days. I mean, I don’t think…”

He kisses her again. Can’t resist copping a feel at her diapered ass. Somehow the infantile garment makes her even sexier.

“Good night, babe.”

She presses on. “But Mark… What if…”

“Baby girl, you have a diaper on. Now go to sleep.” He gives her another long, passionate kiss, and then they both close their eyes. Soon, only light snoring can be heard.

Something’s holding her down. She tries to draw a breath, but it comes out a ragged rasp. She pushes, but whatever it is that’s sitting on top of her is heavy. All she does is strain her breathing further. She can’t breathe, she’s too afraid to speak, she must scream but she has no mouth.

“Baby,” a voice says, far away. She feels someone tousle her hair. The heavy thing is gone, but her fear is not. She’s hyperventilating now, desperately trying to suck in air. She feels the heavy thing between her legs and embarrassment spreads up her body. She can feel herself heat up, she’s afraid, she’s embarrassed, and she doesn’t know where she is.

“Baby, wake up.”

Casey opens her eyes.

“Baby, it’s just a nightmare,” the voice says, and now she recognizes it’s Mark’s.

She puts a hand between her legs and feels the padding. Suddenly, she wants nothing to do with any of it. This is all wrong. “Get it off me!” She screams. She tries to rip the tapes, but she’s too confused and scared and tired, and all she ends up doing is pushing the padding further into her. “I don’t want this! Get it off!”

“Baby,” his voice says. His tone is so different now, here in the dark. Usually he is either stern or casual. Now, he is calm and loving and reassuring. “Casey love, it was a bad dream. Sit up, let’s talk.” She feels him hoist her by the arms to sit up, leaning against the headboard of the bed.

“I’m not a baby,” she says. Her voice is so small and she hates it, but she can’t bring herself to yell again. It’s still dark in the room and the residual fear is telling her they might hear. Whoever they are, the things in the night. She shakes her head, willing herself awake. For fuck’s sake, there are no monsters in the dark. It was a run-of-the-mill nightmare. Sleep paralysis. She’s read about it in her psych textbook. It’s nothing to cry over. Casey is a grown woman. She just needs to get out of this infantile underwear.

“Casey, you’re not a baby. You’re my girlfriend, okay? All we did was… try something out. If you don’t like it, we won’t do it anymore.”

Casey sighs. She is awake now, and her eyes are adjusting to the darkness. She can see the alarm clock, it’s 4:01 in the morning. She can make out the contours of their dresser. When she turns, she sees her boyfriend. He’s still playing with her hair, and one hand is placed on her shoulder. Casey wills herself to relax.

Mark turns on the light on the bed stand. “Casey, what’s wrong?” He sounds concerned.

“This.” She gestures at her diaper. “This all feels wrong. You’re stupid for making me do this and I hate you.” She regrets it the moment the words slip out. He looks wounded. It’s not often Casey sees her boyfriend look genuinely vulnerable, but right now, he looks like a shot animal trying to limp away from a hunter. She is no hunter. “I’m sorry,” she says. Her voice is small again. “I don’t hate you.”

“I know you don’t,” he says, and kisses her forehead. Then he turns around and fishes out their iPad from the bed stand drawer. Mark hands it to her.

“Here,” he says. “Let’s do a little research. Let’s look online. You know about rule 34?”

She giggles. Can’t help it. “If it exists, there’s porn of it on the internet?”

He nods. “Let’s just google this thing.” He types in the words “pee fetish” and hits search.

There are more results than she had guessed. Millions. There are golden showers, pee drinking—all sorts of things that disgust her to her core. But then there’s something. She clicks on “Omorashi FAQ.”

“Omorashi,” she reads aloud, “is a fetish centered around being desperate to pee, or peeing oneself.” That’s it! “That’s my thing!” She says, suddenly a little excited. “The holding part, not the actual peeing your pants. That’s gross.” She feels a little self-conscious then, remembering her recent accidents.

Mark takes the iPad again and types in something else. “Diaper fetish.” Forums and blogs show up. Casey clicks onto a tumblr page. There’s a picture of a young woman—although clearly of legal age—in pigtails, dressed in a onesie with an obvious diaper bulge, sitting in an oversize playpen sucking on a pacifier. The tags say “Daddy Dom/Little Girl,” and the text reads: “Daddy gave me cummies today and then he diapered me for bed. I wuw my dada!”

Casey throws the iPad onto the bed. “What the actual fuck!” She yells. “I only have one daddy and he’s my goddamn father! I don’t want to call the guy I’m fucking ‘daddy’ and I don’t want to suck on pacifiers and sit in playpens and what in the ever living fuck is ‘cummies’? Are these people actual children pretending to be adults?”

Mark listens to her tirade in silence. “You done?”

“Not even close,” Casey says.

“Casey,” he says. Something tells her she better listen. “You and I are us. We don’t have to do anything we don’t want to do. Who are these tumblr people to tell us how our relationship is gonna work?”

“You’re goddamn right,” Casey says. “Don’t you ever think I’m calling you daddy, mister.”

“Look,” he says. “That isn’t us. That’s just some people. They can do whatever and we’ll do our thing. But you have to admit, I’m the Dom and you’re my sub. I’m the one paying for this house, I’m the one making sure you’re keeping up with college, giving you work experience, and making sure you don’t end up with pissy pants.”

She blushes at that last bit. Casey wants to deny it, but he’s kind of right. Life with Mark is different from life with her ex, or back at home with her parents. She has clear responsibilities, and he makes sure she keeps them. But she’s never been happier, never more successful, never more motivated than the year they’ve had together. When she really thinks about it, she’s given him a lot of control over her life, but he’s more than delivered on his end of the deal.

But still, she can’t get over the diapers. The thing that’s encasing her lower half right now. Or the wet one Mark magicked away while she wasn’t looking. She’s not a baby girl. She doesn’t want “cummies.” When Casey is in the mood, she wants a good hard fuck.

“Tell me about this omorashi thing,” he says.

She considers it. “I never knew it was a thing. I just always knew… Even in kindergarten, I got this weird excited feeling when someone peed their pants. When I became a teenager, I began experimenting. Holding it until it was almost too late. The feeling was amazing. The pressure, the desperation, the thrill and naughtiness of it all. And when I’d just make it to the bathroom in time, the relief was so good… I gotta admit, I’d rub it out right then and there.”

“But you don’t like the accidents?”

She blushes. “I don’t want to… never wanted to pee myself. I got kind of excited seeing other people desperate, I kind of wanted them not to make it, but myself, I can’t take the humiliation. I just want to reach that edge and stay there.”

“You never told me about this,” he says.

“I was embarrassed. I thought you’d think I was a freak.”

“You are a freak.” He rubs her shoulders. “I like you that way.” Oh, Mark, always the sweet talker in just the right moments.

“So you never had any accidents, with your experiments?” He prods. She’s embarrassed to talk about this. But this feels like an important moment in their relationship. Like they’re on the verge of something new. There’s no use holding back now. She’s already wearing a diaper for fuck sake.

“Only once,” she whispers.

“Tell me about it.”

Casey doesn’t want to, she really doesn’t.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’ve seen you wet before.”

A hole, just the right size for her body, straight through the bed and into the core of the Earth. That would be nice right now. But Casey’s in the waking world now. “Promise not to make fun of me,” she says.

“I would never.” Oh, he would, but she senses this time he’s serious. “Okay. I was sixteen and feeling frisky. You know how it is when you’re that age.” Not so long ago for her. A little longer for him. “So I held it all day, only went once at lunch and then for the rest of the day, I wasn’t gonna pee. The pressure built up, and it felt so naughty. I had to be careful not to squirm at the dinner table. I had this stupid idea that I’d do the ultimate challenge—twenty-four hours. I’d hold it until lunch the next day. By the time I was getting ready for bed, I couldn’t stand still. I just about managed to hold on as a put on my pajama bottoms. Then I had to stiffen up and walk past my parents on the way to the bathroom as if nothing was wrong. I was just gonna brush my teeth, flush the toilet so it sounded like my normal routine, and go to bed. I just about lost it when I saw the toilet, five feet away. But I managed to hold on.”

Mark’s propped himself up and is listening eagerly.

“So you know, I squeeze some toothpaste on my brush, turn on the water, and then… Then it just happened, Mark. It began running down my legs. I couldn’t do a thing. I stood frozen, feeling the warmth, all of it just pour out of me, down my legs, puddling around my naked feet, as the tap ran. But that wasn’t the worst of it.”

“There’s more?”

“Just as I finished going, standing there like an idiot holding my toothbrush in a puddle of pee, five feet from the toilet, my brother bursts in the door and sees me. He sees his sixteen-year-old sister, and she’s clearly pissed herself, all over, there’s pee almost from one corner of the room to the other, and I’m standing there with my toothbrush so close to the toilet.”

“Wow,” Mark says.

“I’ve never been so embarrassed. I couldn’t explain it. My brother was actually really nice about it, didn’t even tell our parents. But he couldn’t understand why I didn’t just go to the toilet if I was that desperate. I tried to tell him I was just gonna brush my teeth, but I mean, the size of that puddle… I cried for days after that. Didn’t dare do any more pee games for a whole year. I hated it. I wanted it gone. But that urge never went away.”

Mark rubs her shoulders. “Oh, baby,” he says, and although she hates that word, in the context of—her in a diaper—it feels right, then. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. But then you started up your little games again?”

She turns to face him and tries for a coy smile. “You bring out my naughty side. I guess I must have overestimated my abilities. Several times. But you know I hated the way you treated me, like a child who isn’t potty trained.”

Mark puts a hand on her stomach and rubs it. Slowly, he inches down towards her padding and gives that a good rub, too. Casey can’t help but buck into his hand. She shivers. She’s confused.

“Do you still want out of that diaper?” He asks.

She can feel her stomach knotting up. She has to go. Really go.

“I’ll be right back,” Casey says, and slips out of bed before he can follow her. She’s quick on her feet. The layout of their home is imprinted in her memory to the point she can navigate it blind. She finds the bathroom, rips at the tapes until the damn diaper flops down to the floor, and positions herself on the potty. The toilet. She does her business, all of it—how could she ever even have considered the possibility of doing that in her diaper—and then she puts on a pair of panties and returns to bed.

“No diaper, then,” Mark says. Casey’s carrying a big glass of water. All this heart-to-hearting has made her mouth dry. “Sure that’s a good idea?” He says, gesturing at the glass, the size of it.

“Mark, I’m not gonna wet the bed. I’m not a baby and I just went.”

“Come join your fiancee, then,” he says.

She slips into bed before the words register. “What did you just say?”

“I said, come join your… I mean, do you want to marry me?”

She doesn’t know what to say. “Mark, this is too much, this is…”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “It slipped out. It was stupid. We’ve only been together a year. Forget it.”

But she can’t, now that it’s out there. “No, no, Mark. Don’t forget it. It’s… Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

Casey closes her eyes and thinks of walking down the aisle.

Mark wakes first. It’s a Saturday, and they’ve slept late. It’s already noon. Casey’s big glass of water stands empty on the bed stand. Today seems like a good day. An unreasonably happy day. Things that have been bubbling under the surface have finally come up for air, and the atmosphere is all the better for it. He kind of regrets his awkward, impromptu proposal, but Casey seemed to take it for what it was: confused, sleepy, but well meant. And she didn’t seem totally against the idea.

Mark takes a long look at the empty glass and shakes his girlfriend awake. “Casey, morning baby,” he says.

“Morn’n,” she grumbles.

“No, wake up for real, sweetie,” he says, and gives her another shake.

She sits up and her hand immediately shoots to her crotch. She’s out of bed in no time. “Stop,” he says, as she heads out the door. Casey turns. She’s got her legs twisted together, giving herself a sexy cameltoe. “You’re so cute when you’re desperate,” he says. He didn’t find it very cute at the mall, or the dinner party, but after last night’s talk, after the diapering and everything, he’s seen her in a different light. This is a pure expression of Casey-ness, and he loves that. He can even feel some morning wood coming on through his boxers.

“Mark, I gotta go,” she says.

“Sure you can’t hold it a little longer? You’re a big girl.”

She turns and walks over to him, gingerly. “Mark, I have to piss like a racehorse.”

“Told you that big glass of water—”

“I didn’t piss the bed, did I? Now are you going to…”

He grabs her, lifts her into the air, plants her onto the bed. He’s on top, holding her wrists lightly, looking down into her eyes.

“Mark!” She yells. “Mark, it’s gonna come out!”

“I know you like it,” he says. “You love that feeling, don’t you?” He slips a finger inside her panties. It comes away wet, but he doesn’t think it’s pee. She moans.

“What if I told you that you could have that feeling a little longer?”

She moans again as he massages through her panties. “Mhmm,” she moans. “Mark…”

“Are you a big girl, or are you a baby?”

“You know I’m not.”

“Then surely you can wait until breakfast.” He lets go of her and helps her off the bed. The outside of her panties are still dry, although the insides, he reckons, are sticky.

“I can hold it a while longer, ‘long as you don’t sit on my fucken’ bladder, Mark,” she says. Casey in sassy mode, but at the same time, desperate and littler than usual.

“Then you know the deal.”

Her eyes widen. “No. I’m not doing that.”

“Is it because you think it makes you a baby? Are you afraid you’ll disgust me? That I’ll humiliate you?”

She crosses her legs and nods. “All of those, I guess.” A hand lingers between her legs.

“Baby, tell me who awkwardly, stupidly proposed to you last night?”

She turns her face and gives him a quizzical look. “You?”

“After all you told me, I went and did something so stupid anyway. Because I actually do love you.”

He can see her melt. There are those moments in life when you know you have someone in the palm of your hand, when you know they want it even more than you do. When all you need to do, is make it acceptable to ask.

“Now, baby, either you run to the potty before you spring a leak, or I run and get some protection.”

“No baby talk,” Casey says. She briefly crosses her arms, but quickly finds she must return them to her crotch.

“Okay,” Mark says. “I will tease you, but know that it’s all in good fun.” He points at the bulge in his boxers. “No baby talk. But am I pampering you or not?”

She grins and points at his boner. “Your little man really wants it, huh?”

Mark nods. “Big man too.”

“Then off you go, and remember to spare some blood for that stupid brain of yours!”

Mark hurries off to get one of the pull-ups. When he returns, she’s knotted tightly like a pretzel. He moves over, slides down her underwear, then slides up the pull-up. Once he’s done, he holds up her panties so she can see them clearly. He lets a finger glide along the gusset. It’s wet, but is it pee?

“Mark, I’m so fucking turned on right now,” Casey says. Not pee then.

He takes her hand, forcing it away from her padded crotch, and they walk over to the kitchen. “Eggs and toast okay?” He asks. He’s pretending this is a normal morning, but all he can think of is the state of her bladder. Will she break? How will she react if she does? Or will she run off before it’s too late this time?

“Sounds good,” she says. Her voice is strained. Once he’s ready to serve her, he finds her sitting bent over the kitchen table. Still only in her loose top and diaper. Casey notices him looking under the table and spreads her legs seductively.

Mark walks over and slips a finger in beside the leg gathers. Casey stiffens. “Mark!” She says, prying his hand away.

“All dry, like a grown girl,” he says.

“Of course I am. And starving, too,” she adds. But her expression isn’t so sure.

They eat and try to talk about their plans for the night—date night at home or dinner at a restaurant? But Casey’s state is heavy in the air, even if he can’t smell anything yet. She picks at her toast and eggs. Maybe not so starving after all, or perhaps the thought of filling her tummy with anything more is too much. He can’t help but notice her crossed legs under the table.

“Yeah, I think Italian sounds amazing, Mark,” she’s saying. “We haven’t eaten out in so long, and you’re being a cheapskate and canceling the office Christmas party…”

“I’m not canceling it, honey, it’s just we’ve got a lot on our plate right now and I’m thinking January works better.”

“Whatever. Take me out tonight, be a gentleman,” she says. She’s about to say something more, but then she gasps. Her mouth forms an O, and without thinking he scoots his chair away from the table and fixates on her crotch. There’s a hiss. She moans. He can see the color on the flower change, and the diaper expands. She puts a hand to her crotch, but it’s too late now. The dam has burst. She pees and pees, and then he sees a little trickle slide out the leghole and gather on the chair. Casey’s shocked. The sight of it has Mark in a different state of shock, too. He rises and walks over to her.

“Young lady,” he says. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Her face has been lost in a different land, but now it returns, and she blushes. He holds her gaze. “Well?”

“I…” She stammers.

“Remind me, did someone tell me she could keep her panties dry, what, thirty minutes ago?”

Casey looks down at her wet diaper. “I did, Mark.”

“Well, did you?”

She looks up at him with a spark in her eye. “Of course, babe,” she says. “Of course I’m dry.”

“Stand up,” he commands.

She hesitates a little, but does as he commands.

Her diaper has doubled in size. A little trickle slides out the leghole and down her legs, those toned legs he loves so much. Casey’s eyes are fixated on her accident.

Mark slips a finger inside the padding, traces a little path past her clit before he withdraws. It’s dripping. “Young lady,” he says.

“It was an accident!” She pleads. He’s happy to see she isn’t in tears this time. “You made me! You goaded me into this! It’s your fault!”

Mark laughs. “It’s my fault my little girl—” he stops himself before he slips into the juvenile talk she hates. “It’s my fault my grown girlfriend peed her pants? Or did someone else pee your pants?”

“No, I—”

He grabs her, swings down onto the chair—he can feel a little wetness seeping into his boxers once his butt hits the seat—and places her on his lap. “Baby,” he says, as his hand again slips down into the wet padding. “I want you to say it.”

“Say what?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I had an accident, Mark,” she whispers. “In my diaper,” she adds, even fainter. Then she giggles. “And I can feel your appreciation. It’s poking at my wet ass.”

“I need you so much right now,” he whispers.

“Take me,” she whispers back.

He lifts her off his lap. Notices in passing the wet spot on his boxers. Casey bends herself over the kitchen table. Quickly, he undoes his boxers. Mark doesn’t even bother removing the wet padding from his girlfriend’s ass. He simply slides the diaper a bit to the side and makes his way in from the back. She moans as he thrusts himself inside. More pee spills out. Neither of them care.

After, they take a shower together. Mark makes a show of holding up the soaking evidence for her to see. She blushes, but then she laughs. He tosses it in the trash. Clean and dry, they make their way back to bed. Casey cuddles up to him. “You think this is something you could come to enjoy?” He whispers in her ear.

“I can’t wait for round two,” she says. They lie there like that for a while, lost in the bliss of each other and the post-coital glow.

“So, Italian,” she says suddenly. “You think you know a good place for pizza and a proposal?”

Mark laughs. “I’m thinking pasta. I’ll make you a ring of spaghetti.”

Casey laughs, too. “If I’m the lady, you’re definitely the tramp.”

1 Like

Re: Wayward Girl

I thought this was quite well written. It had good development of characters and plot, a good backstory, and the kink was believable. It also played to my dominant nature so. All in all I give it two thumbs up.

Re: Wayward Girl

Thanks. I wanted to write a sort-of regression story where the “victim” doesn’t just acquiesce, and where two people in a relationship need to find an acceptable compromise between their respective needs. And it’s basically a two-person story, so the character dynamics and dialogue need to be on point.