Sunday, November 6, 2011

Laura & Holly - Chapter 19

"Please don't make me wear diapers!" I begged, almost before the nanny had gotten her car door closed. All my time alone in the car, fretting over what she had been talking to Ms. Shelly about and worrying about what she'd said about keeping me going potty in my pants, all the while dealing with the effects of having done so the first time, had me anxious to find some way to stop all this.

Of course, there was very little, if anything, I could do to control that. "Young lady, you wet your big girl panties, you wet that diaper, you skipped a class even before you got taken off to nursery school, you stole a test and tried to blame it on some poor kids who just wanted to help you... You'd better believe you're going to be wearing diapers. And I'd better not hear you ask not to again. I'd better not hear you whining, or see you pouting. You earned this, little missy, and whether you like it or not, you're going to take your punishment like the big girl you seem to think you are, and thank me for it. You're skating on some very thin ice as it is... You do not want to push me right now."

And, as I stared into her eyes as she glared at me, turned to face me from the front seat, I could tell that, much as I wanted to continue to plead to be allowed this one last bit of maturity, it wouldn't be worth it. "Yes, ma'am," I said instead, sniffling as I added a quick, "Thank you."

"That's a start," she nodded, turning back to sit in her seat correctly again and starting up the car. I rode in glum silence back to the house, where I had no doubt I was going to dislike what was in store for me.

I was marched straight up to the bathroom, where the nanny stripped me, un-taping my wet diaper - at last freeing me from its damp, itchy embrace - before making me stand in the corner naked while she ran a bath for me. I didn't dare ask if I would be allowed to clean myself again, since, after the night before, I didn't think she'd let me, and, sure enough, once I was in the bathtub I never even had the chance to try. She simply set to work right away, scrubbing me spotless.

After spending so long in a wet diaper, it was nice to feel clean, although the feeling was negated a little by the fact that I knew I was going to be finding myself in another diaper soon enough. And, sure enough, as soon as she was satisfied with her work, and had gotten me out of the tub and patted me dry, she took me, still naked over to my - or, Holly's, rather - room, where the curtains were open again, and a thick cloth diaper was laid out on the bed, making my stomach wring unhappily inside my body to see it.

But instead of taking me straight there, she led me to the desk, where she pulled out the chair and sat down, dragging me over her lap. I whimpered, but before I could even beg for mercy - not that I expected any - she was already at work, re-warming my bottom from the spanking the principal had given me, and the one she'd given me herself so early that morning. I started crying even quicker that time than either of the other two, my tender bottom not ready for more abuse, and, perhaps because of that, it was over sooner, not that it made the experience any less painful.

While I was still crying, she carried me over to the bed and plopped me down on the thick diapers, pulling the layers upon layers of flannel up between my legs and pinning them tightly in place, sealing them with a pair of plastic panties that bulged with the size of them. It might have been because I'd gotten so used to the disposable, and even the panties I'd gotten to wear for so short a time, but I was sure these were even thicker than the ones from the night before.

I was still lying there, on my back, sniffling, while the nanny went to the closet and pulled out the sleeper again. She quickly and efficiently slipped it over me, trapping me in my babyish garments, the mittens making sure there was no escape without her help. And I wasn't getting that. When she was done, she simply stared at me expectantly, arms folded. It made stopping my tears especially hard, but even afterward, it took me a minute to realize what she wanted.

My cheeks burned, and I squirmed in my hot, soft prison, not wanting to say it, but I didn't want to risk yet another spanking. "Thank you," I mumbled.

She wasn't going to let it go at that, however. "For what?" she demanded.

"F-For spanking me," I flushed, wriggling and staring at  the floor, unable to miss the huge crotch of my sleeper there as well. "A-And diapering me."

"And why did I do that?" she asked.

That was a little harder, both because I wasn't exactly sure what she was looking for, and because I wanted to say what I thought she was looking for even less. "B-Because I'm a naughty little girl and I deserve it?"

She looked down at me for a moment, then gave a slight nod. "Good enough. Now come on, let's get you some dinner."

I followed after her with a slow waddle, a little ashamed at myself that I was disappointed to find her already at the bottom of the stairs by the time I got to the top, and apparently not planning to come back up and carry me down. I made my own way down, clinging to the rail and moving very slowly, half considering sitting down and sliding down one step at a time, if it hadn't been for my freshly-spanked state.

When I got to the dining room, I was dismayed to see that my reward was the bowl of oatmeal and prunes from that morning, still half-full. I'd almost forgotten about it, but she had promised me I'd be finishing it off. She popped in from the kitchen when she heard me come in, helping me up into my chair and pushing the bowl closer to me as she sat down next to me. "Here you go," she said cheerfully. "You eat that up and then you can have the rest of your meal." I was about to ask how she expected me to do that with the mittened sleeper on when she picked up the spoon herself, getting a healthy amount on it and then holding it up to my lips.

The oatmeal had been bad enough the first time around, but reheated it seemed even more gloopy and distasteful, thick and pasty. And with no drink there to help me wash it down, it was even worse. I felt like she was shoveling half-hardened cement into my body, and the end result felt about the same, as the gross stuff quickly filled me up at the same time as it wore me out from forcing it all down. And she was merciless with it, barely giving me time to breath in between spoonfuls, certainly not taking her time like I had that morning.

At the very least that resulted in getting the whole thing over with much quicker than I could have done it myself, even if more of it wound up around my mouth, requiring the nanny to wipe it off with a napkin before leaving me to go back to the kitchen - making sure the door was open so I didn't try anything. I was too full and miserable to even think about so much as getting up, much less mounting an escape. I was sure my tummy was bulging almost as much as my diaper, and I couldn't help but wonder how she'd ever expected me to eat all of that for breakfast in the first place.

I'd completely forgotten about her mention of other food until she returned with a plate of it. I couldn't help but groan, though at least there wasn't much of it - what looked like a hot dog and a banana, cut up into small pieces that I was sure I'd be eating with my fingers, if they weren't behind a layer of thick fleece. Instead, she sat herself down beside me again and, with a fork, fed them to me one by one, ignoring my few feeble attempts to tell her I was full already.

She followed that with a baby bottle of orange juice. I was too worn out, not to mention scared, to protest, or even ask about where she'd gotten, the bottle, just accepting it when she shoved the silicone nipple into my mouth. The juice felt strange somehow, slightly gritty - I assumed it was pulp - and had a bit of an odd aftertaste to it. The nanny held it to my lips until I'd drained it, then lifted me down from the chair and took me back to my room.

After everything I'd been through, and all that food, I was feeling a bit tired, so I was glad when she picked me back up and carried me up the stairs, not putting me down until she put me into bed, my brain not realizing what was going on until she started to tuck me in. I started to wriggle beneath the covers half-heartedly, staring out the bay window to the still brightly lit world outside. It couldn't be any later than five o'clock, if that! She couldn't seriously be putting me to bed already!

"Goodnight, Holly," she told me, kissing my forehead as I stared up at her desperately. "I hope tomorrow you're ready to be a good little girl for me."

And with that she was gone. No chance for appeals, or even begging. I was stuck in bed, staring poutily outside to the street below, where I could see kids far younger than me still playing. I didn't really want to be out there playing with them, but it would have been nice to do anything, rather than stuck in bed at the time I was normally wrapping things up at work.

Work... I'd been gone for the whole day. I was almost disappointed I hadn't heard news that the whole place had blown up somehow without me there in charge, and while I was sure somebody had to have noticed I wasn't there, I knew things were far enough along that the opening was likely to be a success with or without me. And, barring any unforeseen miracles, it was going to be the latter. Even if someone there thought to come looking for me, why would they look here? They might find Holly in my apartment, if she was dumb enough to answer, but I had no doubt she'd spin some story about how I'd gone out of town and left her to run out the lease on my apartment or whatever. If they saw my car, the questions might get a little tougher, but that was a big if.

I squirmed in my bed, letting a small stream of pee out into the diaper, feeling the thick, thirsty padding soak it up. There was no reason not to, I mused, and I was more likely to get in trouble for asking to be allowed into the bathroom than for doing it, even if the wet spot was going to be a constant reminder - though only one of many, and hardly the most obvious, just the most intimate - of my state as I passed another long evening of tossing and turning and waiting for it to get late enough to actually fall asleep.

I surprised myself with a yawn only seconds after that gloomy thought, realizing my eyelids were feeling quite droopy. My room was still brightly lit, but I glanced over at the window to make sure I wasn't crazy, that the sun was still out. It had been a long day, sure, and a big meal, but surely I shouldn't be that tired yet.

But by recognizing that sleepiness, it was almost like giving it more power, and soon I could feel the tiredness seeping into my whole body, weighing me down. My brain was feeling foggy, but I still managed to remember, eventually, the strange taste in the orange juice. Had the nanny drugged me? And why? Surely part of the point of giving me an early bedtime was so I'd spend some time lying there, thinking about what I'd done... I couldn't do much of that if I was asleep ten minutes into it. So, did she just want to prevent another night of me getting me up multiple times as I tried to explore, as if I'd risk more punishment? Or was there something else going on?

Before I had a chance to decide, I was fast asleep.

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