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Chapter Eight
“Oh no,” Rachel
whispered, looking down to see her skirt slowly receding up her legs, revealing
more and more of her thighs. She reached down with a mitten covered hand to tug
at the hem, hoping it was just a weird optical illusion. But the longer she
looked, the more it became obvious that something was happening… the cuffs of
her jacket were sliding up her arms at about the same rate as her skirt, and
beneath she could feel her blouse squirming, writhing around against her skin
like it was alive.
“This isn’t
happening,” she tried to assure herself, praying it was a hallucination. But
the more she tried to take deep breaths and relax, the more pronounced the
problem became… her pantyhose melted off her legs between the ankle and the
thigh. The bottom parts became thicker and gradually grew white and
frilly—ankle socks, she realized to her horror. Her shoes were next, her
stylish black heals flattening out and sprouting a dorky little buckle across
the top. The toes rounded out, the leather became shiny, and by the time they
stopped, Rachel realized they’d become an adorable pair of mary-janes,
perfectly suited to a four year old.
“Oh my God!” she
squealed desperately, her skirt inching further up her leg by the second. “Please
stop!”
But the
transformation continued at a steady pace, and Rachel had to suppress a scream
when she noticed the charcoal color of her suit had developed a series of pink
splotches that were quickly spreading. The fabric was changing, thick, hot wool
becoming soft silk and satin, her jacket, blouse and skirt merging together, slowly
altering itself into something new.
She felt her
legs being spread, her thighs pushed apart by the bulging pad between them,
which seemed to be growing thicker. Rachel realized, with mounting horror, that
her diaper was pulsating, growing thicker in ever-expanding throbs under what
was left of her pantyhose. She emitted a series of embarrassed squeaks when a
frilly white petticoat began sprouting under her skirt.
Watching in the
mirror, she fought back a scream as her new outfit began taking shape. It was
short, coming down just below the waist, bunches of frilly white petticoats
only serving to raise it higher, revealing her still expanding diaper beneath. The
final remnants of her pantyhose turned to cloth, a ring of soft lace growing
around each leg hole. There was a shifting, squirming feeling on the seat—Rachel
turned, bleating dejectedly when she saw three rows of adorable ruffles budding
across the back of her diaper-cover.
When it was
finished, Rachel could just stare in the mirror and stammer—the dress was
utterly infantile, an almost exact replica of something she might have worn
when she was two; pink and white and covered in bows and lace, it was hemmed
just below the bust and barely came down below the waistband of her baby-pants.
Her diaper bulged absurdly beneath it, puffed out at the crotch, hips and waist
like the cap of a giant mushroom. The petticoats raised it even further, and
the frilly seat of her pamper was on full display. Beneath, her shiny black
shoes and frilly ankle socks looked like something she’s stolen from a little
girl’s closet. Once the outfit had settled into its final shape, a frilly pink
Easter bonnet appeared on her head with a small pop, drawstrings tight under
her chin.
“Oh! Oh no,” she
said, trying to stay calm as she examined her humiliating new outfit in the
mirror. “This can’t be happening,” she said aloud, in a quivering voice. As bad
as things had been before, they were far worse now... even if she wasn’t
dressed like a clown, she was still moments away from having an big messy
accident in her diapers. How had things spun out of control so quickly? Mere
minutes ago she was a sophisticated, professional woman. Perhaps she’d been
forced into a compromising position, but her maturity was never in question.
Now, in the space of mere seconds, her entire adult identity had been stolen
from her, and the odds of getting home without completely humiliating herself seemed
insurmountable.
“Well well.” She
heard the Master’s voice behind her and spun around to see him standing in the
corner, grinning malevolently. “I must say, Rachel: I’m very disappointed in
you—though you do wear that outfit very well,” he said lustily. Rachel felt
herself blushing hotly under her bonnet. She stammered, trying to think of
something to say. The Master continued: “I thought you were a good girl, and
here you are trying to cheat me! You’ve been so naughty—I’ve got a good mind to
put you over my knee and give you a good spanking, young lady!”
Rachel gasped and
stepped back, unconsciously reaching back to touch her thickly padded rump
through her frilly baby pants. “No! Please,” she begged in an infantile whine.
She pictured herself messing her diaper while she took a spanking over his knee
in this gloriously silly outfit—she could see it as clearly as if she was
watching it on TV, and the mere thought of it made her want to die from
embarrassment. “Please listen! I—I wasn’t actually going to do it! I—I just
wasn’t thinking! Please have mercy on me!”
He seemed to
think it over for a long moment, and Rachel hovered on the edge of tears awaiting
his answer. Finally he locked eyes with her. “OK, Rachel, I’ll give you the
benefit of the doubt. Instead of just giving you the spanking I think we both
know you deserve, I’m going to give you a choice: If you stand there in front
of me and mess your diaper, and I mean make an entertaining display out of it,
I’ll change back your clothes—however, I won’t change your diaper, and since
you’re forbidden to touch it yourself, that would mean spending the rest of the
day in a loaded pamper.”
“What’s my other
option?” she asked warily.
“You can go out
there as you are and take your chances.” He smiled warmly at her, spreading his
hands expectantly. “What’s it going to be, darling?”
Rachel stammered
and stamped her foot, her dress flouncing to reveal her diaper and frilly baby
pants. “That’s not fair!” she pouted, blushing when she realized how childish
she sounded.
“Are you giving
up?” he asked neutrally. She fumed and pouted for a long moment.
“No,” she finally
spat, “but…”
“No buts, young
lady,” he said firmly, “If you want to try your luck at staying clean, you need to sashay that cute, ruffled bottom out there
right now… otherwise, you better get to messing those britches, young lady.”
Actually, the
truth was that she didn’t really have much of a choice: she’d been holding it
for too long as it was, and she’d more or less reached the end of the road
anyway. Inside, her bowels raged and roared, the cramps becoming unbearable.
Still Rachel couldn’t force herself to let go, couldn’t relinquish control like
that.
Someone plunged a
hot poker into her gut. Rachel doubled over and grasped her tummy—a hot, gooey
mess surged out of her and filled the seat of her diaper. She emitted an
involuntary squeal, her lips forming into an adorably shocked ‘O.’ The Master
burst out laughing; Rachel blushed and grunted—another mushy brown mudslide
announced itself with a moist, gooey squelching and slid into the back of her
diapers. The seat of her baby-pants bulged under her petticoats, growing
heavier and lumpier by the second.
“That’s a girl!”
he encouraged, “turn around and show me how you fill your britches.”
She complied,
slowly turning, bowlegged, to show of the bulging seat of her ruffled panties.
A cramp pushed out another wave of sloppy mush nosily into her pamper
uncontrollably, the back of her baby pants inflating visibly.
“That’s my good
little girl,” he said condescendingly, reaching out and patting her ruffled
bottom. “Push it all out for me.”
Rachel complied,
closing her eyes and grunting shakily, desperate to get it over with. She
exploded into her diaper with a sizable fart, the mess spreading across her
buttocks. The thick, hot paste stretched the seat of her diaper to the limit,
coated each cheek almost entirely and filling her butt-crack. Rachel was sure
she’d never been such a mess in her entire life… but she spoke too soon, one
more mushy installment exiting her body flatulently and still managing to find
space to squish into her pamper. The Master laughed heartily.
“Very good
darling—you followed Daddy’s instructions to the letter!” He reached forward and
patted her bulging rump, squishing the mess against her bottom. Rachel groaned
and shuddered… she realized that she was beginning to feel a shameful stirring
in her loins once more.
She shot him an
angry look. “Can I have my clothes back now?” she demanded, trying to keep her
squishing down to a minimum.
“Already done.”
Rachel looked
down at herself— the clothes she’d picked out that morning had re-appeared
exactly as they’d been before. She turned to examine herself in the mirror: it
was as though the transformation had never occurred. Well, almost; she noticed
that the extra big diaper remained, and she couldn’t help blushing when she saw
the way it bulged against her skirt. A quick wiggle of her butt confirmed that
the mess was still with her… the sensation of the hot, gooey pile in her pants
squishing against her buttocks made her heart throb in her chest, and she felt
her pussy moisten.
“I hope you don’t
mind, but I left you in the extra big diaper—I don’t think the other one was
adequate to contain your mess,” he said with a chuckle. “Keep the baby pants,
too—think of them as a gift.”
The thought of
wearing the infantile baby pants, with the lace and ruffled seat, beneath her
professional attire, made her heart go all squishy and sent throbs of
embarrassing arousal through her body. She chewed her lower lip and briefly
wondered if she had time to sit and…
“Come on,
darling,” the master said, interrupting her thoughts. He took her by the arm
and gently lead her to the door, “you can’t hide in here all day… you’ve got to
get back to the meeting!”
“But…”
“That’s right!”
he said, opening the door and ushering her out into the hallway, “you’d better
move that stinky little butt!” he swatted her bulging, diapered bottom again. Rachel
squealed, the mess squishing against her backside. With a groan and a shudder,
she waddled her way down the hallway once more, the diaper crinkling in time with
every step.
