Ones & Twos

"Stop!! Stop it please!  I'm twenty-nine, I don't want--" But before Amber could say another word, something was stuffed between her lips.  A mask was pulled tight across her face and buckled behind her blonde hair.  It was only her first day in her new home, and already she had been stripped down and re-dressed by a husband and wife.  Amber kicked and flailed, but her new clothes made it impossible to fight back.

~~~

"Alright dear, let's take care of this rebellious behavior - you're clearly under the assumption that you get a say in anything that goes on, and we need to condition that right on out of you - just like tangles in hair." How was she going to do this? Well, the answer was quite surprisingly simple, wasn't it? She produced what looked like headphones and affixed them to the womans head.

~~~

Amber kicked at the woman but her husband held her ankles, spread wide apart by the thick layers of diapers they had dressed her in.  Even the diaper cover was filled with thick cotton to fully immerse their new baby girl.  Amber wiggled and flailed as the soft music filled her ears.  Slowly but surely, she stopped moving altogether.

Prison would have been better than this, Amber thought to herself.  She had been a rich girl, used to getting anything she wanted.  But after stealing a car from a local lot, not even her daddy's money could get her out of trouble.  When the judge gave her an out - a new rehabilitation program - she never thought it would mean spending the next two years in diapers...

~~~

"Sleeping beauty is awake, it seems." 

It was hard to tell how long it had been - to Amber, maybe a few moments - because her captors were both wearing different outfits when she came to. The diaper between her legs was still there, thick and overbearing, but also... also comfortable. Almost familiar. Like she'd gotten used to it, or like she could almost forget it. But something she couldn't forget was the feeling that followed.

"Numero uno."

~~~

Amber looked up at the couple in confusion, but was pulled away from her thoughts by a sudden warmth between her legs.  She felt the hot liquid pouring over her genitals, spilling across her bottom, and soaking into the diapers.  When she realized what it was, she tried to stop it.  She tried so hard!  But no matter how she moved, wiggled, or pushed, she couldn't keep herself from uncontrollably wetting her diaper.  When it was done, Amber's eyes were full of tears and she tried to beg around the gag in her mouth.  Please... please don't do this to me... please...

~~~

"Oh good, now you see just how much things are going to change for you, now, don't you? They're not the same as they were before, and for the next two years, they're not going to be anything like what you know." 

And as if to prove this point, the woman pressed her hand to Amber's diaper to remind her of what she'd done. And she followed this cruel memento with two more simple words.

"Numero dos"

Having someone wet themselves was easy - it was a matter of letting go. Forgetting to squeeze. But for an adult to do what Amber was doing now, to grunt and push and try and strain and shit their diaper like a pure bred baby? That was active. That was conscious. That was a feeling she was unfamiliar with, and it was one she was never ever going to forget.

Two years in diapers would make sure of that.