Thick, Thick Diaper

Her legs were strapped to the stirrups, just below the knee, the padded groove keeping her ankles and feet in place. They stopped her bringing her legs together or drawing her knees up to her chest, protecting herself from them. A hinge meant they could do that though, both stirrups rotating smoothly, a counterweight making it easy for the operator, bringing her knees high above her head.

That forced her hips from the table, made removing a well used diaper easy, gave them access to clean her, apply cream if she had a rash. It meant she couldn’t stop them placing a new diaper below her, always thick, far too thick, and as the stirrups were swung back to their start point it could be brought up between her thighs, pulled tight against her and fastened in place.

The only thing the stirrups didn’t make easy for them was pulling her thick knitted tights on, extra space around the bottom, a childish picture knitted into the fabric. By then it was too late, the bodysuit fastened into place, assuring the thick, thick diaper wouldn’t slip, her short flared dress hanging like a long top; it wouldn’t hide the tights. She didn’t fight anyway, let them take one foot from the stirrup, slide it into the tights, pull them up past the knee. That foot was fastened back in and the process repeated to the first foot.

She’d fought at first, kicking and struggling, making it difficult for them to dress her. That was why they kept her strapped across her chest on the changing table, used the stirrups to control her legs while pulling the tights onto her. She hated it, hated seeing her knees drawn over her head again, watching the tights pulled past her thighs and over that thick, thick diaper.

Even as her legs were lowered once more she felt fingers fiddling at her her waist, under her dress. She knew what they were doing; the tights had button holes in the waistband, could be buttoned to the bodysuit. That stopped her pushing them down, pulling them off; someone would need to undo the buttons first.

She couldn’t do that, her initial misbehaviour rapidly losing her use of her hands. They were often freed while she was strapped down, letting her wriggle her fingers, feel fresh air on them but they liked letting her sit unrestrained. Then the mittens were put on; unrestrained to them meant no ability to grip, use her thumb, do anything needing dexterity. Unrestrained meant trapped in her clothing, forced to look infantile. Trapped in her thick, thick diaper, no choice about using it.

As she was unstrapped she instinctively tried to bring her knees together. She always tried, never succeeded. She couldn’t remember when her knees had last touched, the thick, thick diapers always thwarting her efforts. Months of feeling splayed must be damaging her hips, made her wonder if she could even walk now. They didn’t even let her try, the amusement of watching her waddle greatly outweighed by the entertainment of the picture on her bottom swinging in the air as she crawled, the knitted tights easily visible as her dresses were never long enough to cover them at the back.

The changing table was lowered and the straps finally removed. It had taken only a couple of minutes to put her in a new clean diaper. A thick one, far too thick, but she ignored it, crawled away from them, gave them a view of her tights. If she behaved she could have some time to herself, wouldn’t get punished, could enjoy being clean for once, for just a few moments.

It didn’t last. They’d done something, she didn’t know what, but she could feel it, her bladder releasing, and she couldn’t stop it. She sighed; whether she liked them or not she now needed this thick, thick diaper.

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I can’t help wondering what happened before the story started; and who ‘they’ are. I know I’m not likely to get an answer, but it’s still fun to wonder. :smirk:

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Half the fun of shorts like this is coming up with your own scenarios. Like the robonannies decided to take over the world and turn all of mankind- err, sorry- peoplekind :clown_face: into giant babies because reasons.

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This was the entire story, when I thought of it. The rest was added on to provide sufficient context for that one concept.

I chose against adding an explicit back story. The references to past events explain elements of the current situation, all of which are geared around that one opening line, making it possible, making it credible.

But with that choice against back story came some intentional obfuscation. Carefully controlling what’s revealed lets readers add their own back story, context, interpretation and further fantasies. Which is what this is really about.

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