Escaping

She ran her fingertips down her bare chest, across the soft skin of her stomach, and gently touched the purple plastic.  It crinkled, breaking the silence of Widowmaker's bedroom.  Her entire life, she had always been in control of everything.  She held life and death in the palms of her hands.  But she had always wondered... what was it like to truly lose control?

~~~

Like her finger massaging the trigger, her nails traced over the plastic of the diaper she wore. Crinkle. Crinkle. Crinkle. And like a trigger, all she had to do was one simple gesture to change the outcome of a life. Pull the trigger. Push into the diaper. Were they really that different?

~~~

Widowmaker had spent weeks online, wondering to herself.  What was the ultimate sacrifice of control?  How could she fully immerse herself in submission, in helplessness?  Her searches turned up one concrete result: diapers.  She ordered the thickest, most infantile one she could find.  She stripped herself of her adult clothing.  And finally, as instructed online, she drank the vial of medicine that would truly incapacitate her adulthood.  Now, her stomach ached.  She wondered how long it would take to rush to the bathroom and tear this diaper off.  She could make it, for sure.  But she waited a while longer.

~~~

She was patient, she was calm, even now she was in control. Would this really work? Would this really help her to feel free? Would she be able to surrender herself to this, truly, in the way she so desperately craved and - dare say - needed? Something to distract her, something to turn off her brain, something to make it through until the moment of truth? She sucked her thumb. Focus. Relax. Let go.

~~~

No matter how she tried, she knew, ultimately, that there was no hope.  Widowmaker was destined to be in control of every aspect of her life.  Even now, she could escape this fate and use the toilet.  She let out a sigh of resignation.  Oh well.  Just then, the medicine kicked in.  All at once, her legs felt like jelly.  Her stomach swirled and tightened.  She felt her control slip away as she began to fill the seat of her diaper.  Every second was total fear, total confusion.  Run!  But her legs wouldn't move.  Stop!  But her diaper continued to fill.  The thick scent of shame filled her bedroom as she helplessly messed her diaper.

~~~

All of sudden, control became something frightening, it became something she no longer wanted. Control had led her to this, control had brought about this shame and this experience and just like that... she started to laugh. Not to laugh, but to giggle. Giggle in infantile amusement as her fingers ran over the taut and bulging surface of her diaper, now loaded with what had once been all the awfulness inside of her. This was nice...