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Rachel sat on the blanket, making a small noise as she felt the load compress beneath her buttocks. Strange feelings were radiating outward from her diaper; feelings that made her heart spasm, her tummy flutter, and her private parts moisten and throb. What she really wanted was some time to herself to explore these new sensations… not to submit to a change from some sadistic, satanic TV host with a diaper fetish. She tried to focus on something else—but when he unzipped her skirt and tugged it off, she found herself squirming on the floor, a sexy, ticklish embarrassment breaking out over her body.
The Master tore the tapes of her diaper dramatically and pulled down the front panel without ceremony. “Phew! You little stinker,” he admonished, smirking and pinching his nose closed. Rachel cringed, vividly aware of the mess squishing beneath her squirming bottom. This is so embarrassing, she thought with a sigh, allowing him to lift her legs and exposed the rounded cheeks of her bum, caked thickly in a gooey brown mess.
“Just lay still, my little potty-pants,” he said softly, making her shiver. “You’re an awful mess, honey… did that pizza upset your tummy?” He began the long and difficult task of wiping her bottom clean.
She groaned and shut her eyes. His teasing made her feel all hot and blushy, and she was still steamy from her thwarted masturbation session… Rachel prayed he wouldn’t notice. Clenching her fists and gritting her teeth, she forced herself to lay still and try to think about something, anything other than the embarrassment of her position… and the arousal it was stoking. She dug her nails into her palms and willed herself not to give any sign.
“There we go,” he said, wiping between her cheeks where the mess was caked in thickly. “Soon you’re going to be all clean. We’ll have you back to the meeting in no time… don’t you worry.”
“Great,” she said half heartedly, shivering from the cool of the wipe. She blushed furiously when he powdered her butt and patted it into each cheek firmly… his large, strong palm on her vulnerable bare backside made her feel like she was two years old.
Her ankles were grasped, her bottom was lifted effortlessly, and a new diaper was slid under her rump. Rachel found herself blushing furiously as she was once again taped into diapers.
She sat up with a sigh and looked down at her bulging padded crotch, all gleaming and white. Underneath the bulky plastic, her privates were still buzzing; Rachel closed her eyes and sucked in deep breaths, trying to calm herself before returning to the meeting. The Master helped her to her feet.
“You better scoot on back, sweetie,” he said, ushering her out the door with a swat to her thickly diapered tushy.
“Ow! Hey!” she cried. Though the swat hadn’t hurt, it was very embarrassing to have her padded and powdered butt casually spanked like a little girl. She pouted futilely over her shoulder at him, but The Master was too busy gathering his supplies to notice. Rachel reached back to rub her padded rump ruefully as she toddled back to the meeting.
Rachel suspected her previous diaper had been thicker than the one before it, and she was sure this one was even bigger than that one—her crotch and butt bulged noticeably under her skirt, and the padding between her thighs was so thick, she doubted she could even touch her knees. Worse, the padding threw off her gait, and she was forced the swing her hips and wiggle her butt when she walked… a diaper waddle, she realized with a sigh. The crinkle was definitely noticeable now, not the subtle rustle it had been when she’d walked back to the office after lunch. Every step was accompanied by an audible, plastic crumpling from inside her skirt. Blushing furiously, she waddled down the hall as quickly as she could, desperate to get out of sight before someone happened across her.
“… And now, looking ahead to next quarter…” Chad finished mid sentence as she re-entered. The room went dead silent, and Rachel was sure she’d see every eye in the room watching her toddle across the room to her seat—if she lifted her gaze from the floor, that was. She waddled across the room, cursing the infernal crinkle that accompanied each bow-legged step. She settled back into her seat and shot Chad an apologetic look, but he just smiled kindly at her and went ahead.
It took her a moment to get used to sitting with the massive bulk of the diaper beneath her bottom—Rachel had the sensation of sitting on a phonebook, and at first, she felt like she was about to tip over. But she quickly got used to it and settled back in with a smile. She was easily prepared for any questions that might come her way—all she had to do now was ride out the end of the meeting, get her stuff from her office, and get her padded backside home without getting caught… piece of cake, she thought with a smile.. You lose, you sick bastard, she thought smugly, stifling a giggle at the thought of the disappointed look on the Master’s face. What was I ever afraid of? She thought. This was the best decision I ever made—in a couple of hours, I’ll be running this place!
She settled in, visibly paying attention to every facet, even the stuff that didn’t directly involve her. She listened, making sure to make eye contact with each speaker, and project an air of confidence. Finally, Chad fixed her with his piercing blue eyes and gave her that movie-star smile. “So Rachel—what did you think of the project we left on your desk?”
She put on her brightest smile and prepared to steal the show. I just hope I’m not too dazzling and wind up intimidating them, she thought, taking a deep breath. “Well Chad, I…”
A noisy, aggressive bubbling emerged suddenly from her midsection, and Rachel immediately went pale. Oh no, she thought, gritting her teeth against a sharp intestinal cramp, I’ve got to go again! She felt the color draining from her features: Oh God, she prayed, not here, not now! And I’ve used up all my changes! She cursed, feeling her bowels gurgle, percolating inside her, demanding release.
She sweated and tried to remain calm. Her belly continued to gurgle and cramp… Rachel clenched her buns and prayed that the urge would pass. Realizing that people were beginning to stare, she pressed on. “Well… um… in regards to… uh… that is…”
An obnoxiously loud burble emerged from her midsection. Rachel blushed, knowing that the others must’ve heard. Inside, she could feel her bowels practically convulsing. She tried to press on, stammering on for another long moment… but it was quickly becoming horrifyingly apparent that she was facing a full blown emergency. Rachel squirmed her pampered bottom, oblivious to the low crinkle that emerged, and briefly thought of trying to siege on. But further bubbling and spasms from within her belly quickly changed her mind—her butt was a time bomb, and if she didn’t want to humiliate herself in front of her co-workers, poor Rachel was going to have to think of a way out of the room… fast. But how? If she excused herself to the bathroom so quickly after the last time, people might guess that she had diarrhea!
“Oh! I made some… notes about that! But I… forgot them… in… in my office! I’ll just go get them!” She winced, her voice sounding pained and distressed in her own ears. She hoped nobody else noticed, but everyone seemed to be staring at her as she quickly stood and scurried out of the conference room in awkward, waddling baby-steps, blushing bright red, accompanied by the ever present crinkle of plastic.
Rachel waddled down the hall as quickly as she could, sweating, butt clenched, diaper rustling noisily in her ears. Her colon spasmed-- she passed gas with a noisy rumble in her pampers. “Oh my God!” she whispered, reaching back to press her hand against her butt, fearing that an accident was imminent.
She squeezed her sphincter tightly and baby-stepped her way down the hall, “ooo”ing and “ahh”ing the entire way, the strain keeping her perched on the edge of an accident. I can’t believe this is happening, Rachel thought. Even if she did make it to the bathroom and have her accident in privacy, she couldn’t call for another change—she wasn’t allowed to touch her diaper by herself either. She was going to be trapped in a gross, smelly diaper for the rest of the day.
A strong cramp forced a disgusting noise from the seat of Rachel’s diapers and her bottom lip quivered. She felt like she might have had a small accident, but she couldn’t worry about it now… the ladies room was in sight, and she was making slow, but determined progress towards it.
Rachel trotted toward the restroom in tiny, waddling baby-steps, grunting and moaning with each stride, clenching her buttocks as tightly as she possibly could. Periodically, she emitted a loud, rumbling fart, barely muffled by her diaper. Her cheeks were red, and she could only imagine the spectacle she was presenting… she was relieved that nobody was watching, but then felt a stab of cold dread when she remembered she was being recorded (wasn’t she? She hadn’t seen a camera yet. Then again, she’d never seen any cameras or anything on the other series, and The Master hadn’t had any trouble getting any of that on the air…).
In any case, she had no desire to expose herself to further embarrassment by being seen by her co-workers in this position, so she hustled toward the bathroom, panting and farting, her every move accompanied by the sound of her diaper crinkling.
She burst into the bathroom and let out a little laugh. But Rachel’s relief was short-lived: now what? She couldn’t actually mess her diaper now—could she? With no opportunity to get changed? What was she supposed to do? Try to hide in the bathroom? Someone would surely discover her. Scurry off home, never to return? That would mean losing the game… not to mention her job. What then? Just head back to the meeting in a loaded diaper and hope no one noticed? Oh lord, she thought, how did I ever get into this?
And before her sat the toilet, silently mocking her. Here was her salvation, mere moments away— and she was forbidden to use it like a normal person by the decree of an insane TV producer with delusions of grandeur. This is insane! I can’t just stand here and shit my pants with the toilet three feet away, she told herself, I just can’t! Setting her jaw, she hobbled foreword and reached out to grasp the lid, but she found herself unable to… the satin mittens on her hands kept her fingers and thumb pressed tightly together in a bundle. Wait a second, she thought, puzzled. Mittens? Where did those…?
Gripped by a cold fear, Rachel felt her clothes beginning to move on her body…