mellow-sadistic:I suppressed a laugh as I watched my girlfriend bend her knees and stick out her bum
mellow-sadistic:I suppressed a laugh as I watched my girlfriend bend her knees and stick out her bum, adopting the position of a two-year-old about to fill her pants. Brittany had come along way with her nappy training – she no longer screamed and cried so much about going potty in her pants, although she still had enough pride that she’d try to escape somewhere private to do number two. She still considered herself an adult, and not the stupid, oversized baby I wanted her to see herself as. Unbeknown to her, I’d followed her to the living room, where she was hoping to poop her pants with some dignity, and waited in the doorway to enjoy the show.Brittany grunted softly, and the seat of her nappy began to balloon out. I watched with a smile as my formerly strong-willed, independent girlfriend strained to fill her pants like a giant baby. A hissing sound emerged as Brittany started pissing into the thirsty padding as well, making it droop almost down to her knees. She shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot once she’d finished, an expression of utmost disgust on her face as she stared down at the full nappy sagging low between her legs.“Uh-oh!” I sang, causing Brittany to spin around and blush scarlet when she realised I’d been watching her. “Has my little girl made Daddy a stinky pressie in her nappy?” I crooned, walking over to her.Brittany cringed with humiliation at my mocking tone, but said nothing.I stuck a finger into the waistband of her nappy and pulled out the back so I could peek inside. “You really filled this one up, stinky-pants!” I said, letting the waistband snap back. “Do you want Daddy to give you a nappy change?”“Yes…” she mumbled.“Yes what, sweetheart? Use your manners like a good little girl. How do you address me?”Brittany gritted her teeth. “Yes, Daddy.”“Alright princess,” I cooed. “I’ll change your nappy. But you have to ask me in baby-talk.”“No!” Brittany shouted, the anger she’d been suppressing spilling over. She stomped her foot like a child throwing a tantrum, then wrinkled her nose as the action caused the mess to move around in her pants. “I’m not a baby and I’m not going to talk like one!” “Brittany,” I said, turning stern. “Remember that you’re not a grown up anymore. I know that you used to feed yourself and bathe yourself and wipe your own bottom, but those days are over now. You can either ask Daddy to change your nappy like a little toddler, making yourself sound as cute and silly as possible, or you can stay in your stinky pants until bedtime.”Brittany squirmed on the spot, clearly trying to decide which was worse – the shame of having to beg her boyfriend to change her nappy in baby-talk, or the idea of toddling around the house with a disgusting mess in her pants for the rest of the day. For a few seconds, she seemed to struggle with herself, but when she finally looked up at me with tears in her eyes, I could tell she had given in.“Pwease Daddy!” she cried, bouncing on the spot for emphasis and making her nappy jiggle ridiculously between her legs. “I did a big poo-poo in my pants! Pwease will you change my nappy, Daddy? It’s so yucky and stinky!”“Of course I’ll change you, baby girl,” I cooed, feeling my heart flutter at how adorably helpless she sounded. “Good girl for asking properly! Now lie down here and Daddy will change you into a nice, clean, fresh nappy.” -- source link