Breaking the News 2

By Nomdreserv

An hour after the disastrous news broadcast, Angela sat, cold and wet again, on a medical examination table. Her thoughts had only recently seemed to clear enough to recognize the full enormity of what had happened, and it didn’t help to now have a nurse glaring at her.

“That’s the second gown you’ve ruined,” she huffed. “Don’t you have any bladder control at all?”

Angela nodded weakly, but didn’t even seem to convince herself.

“Me no … I …” She found it strangely difficult to choose her words. “I think so. But then it just comes.”

“Right.” The nurse set her mouth grimly. “Time we did something about that. Take off your wet gown.”

Angela stood and almost immediately stumbled, supporting herself on wobbly legs while holding the table. For some reason, the embarrassment and stress of her situation seemed to have affected her balance.

“What’s wrong?” the nurse asked, reaching to steady her. “Are you dizzy?”

“Yes, that’s it,” Angela answered, ignoring the strange weakness in her legs. It was as though her body wasn’t used to standing and walking.

“Get back on the table,” the nurse ordered.

Angela felt much better lying on her back, though she still resisted a bit when the nurse started to pull off the wet gown. Oddly, she didn’t seem to struggle as much as either had expected, and soon she lay exposed in her bra and soaked panties.

“Those too,” the nurse said, pointing at the wet underwear. “Lie still so I can get those off.”

“Me can do it,” Angela protested, but felt dizzy when she tried to sit up. The nurse caught her and pushed her back down easily.

“No more arguments,” the nurse ordered, working them off, then holding them with mild disgust. “I’ll assume we’re tossing these?”

Angela nodded weakly, trying vainly to cover her exposed pelvis with her hands. The nurse waited until after disposing of the panties to cover her with a sheet, then disappeared briefly, returning with several large, bulky white objects. Angela’s eyes widened.

“Those are diapers!” she exclaimed, starting to scramble up, and feeling the same odd sensation wash through her after the exclamation. “You no putting didees on me!”

The nurse looked at her oddly. The patient’s vocabulary and behavior seemed to deteriorate with agitation, and she decided to try her best to keep her calm. She spoke patiently and in a softer, higher voice, as though to a child.

“These aren’t diapers, see?” she reassured her, holding one out. “They’re urinary incontinence aids. Says so right here.”

Angela squinted, having trouble reading the writing. “What?’ she asked suspiciously.

“Medically approved aids for incontinence,” the nurse continued smoothly, pulling off the sheet and gently moving Angela’s hands aside. “They absorb urine and keep your skin and clothes nice and dry.”

“Oh,” Angela said slowly, pretending understanding but not entirely certain how that differed from a diaper. Still, if they were official medical incontinence devices, it was probably OK.

The nurse picked up a washcloth.

“I need to clean the urine from your skin down here. Now, just lift your legs. That’s it. There’s a good girl.” She busied herself with the cloth.

At this moment, the doctor, a young man in his early thirties, opened the door. His eyes went wide and his mouth dropped at the sight of Angela’s naked sex and lower body in full display, legs high in the air, with the nurse’s hands making circular motions near her bottom.

“Oh my God! I’m…I’m sorry. Pardon me.” He blushed and spun out of the room.

He’d read about such things, of course, but this was his first chance to see them firsthand. He immediately burned the memory into long-term storage. It would be accessed frequently over the next year.

Angela flashed crimson. She wasn’t sure which would embarrass her more – the apparent assumption of a lesbian quickie, or the reality that she was being changed like a baby. She felt helpless and out of control as the nurse pulled up the diaper…oops, incontinence device, and patted her.

“There. All clean and fresh. Feel better?”

Angela nodded, resisting the urge to suck her thumb which had recurred with her embarrassment. Strangely enough, she did feel better, dry and comforted. It was a nice feeling, almost worth…

No! What was she thinking? She tried to sit up again, and reclaim control, but the nurse told her to relax, then called the doctor to come back in.

“The patient is ready, doctor,” she announced.

“For what?” came the nervous reply.

“For her MEDICAL examination,” the nurse said acidly.

The doctor returned sheepishly, pretending to study her chart intently.

“Ah, Ms. Yoshida,” he said by way of greeting. “I thought I recognized the … face, yes face, of course. What else?” He cleared his throat. “I’m Dr. Donnege. Yes, well, now, you’re having a problem with sudden onset of involuntary voiding symptoms and stress incontinence, is that right?”

She blinked at him.

“You mean cuz I need to make pee-pee and can’t hold it?” she asked.

He blinked back.

“Um, yes, I guess that sums it up as well. Yes, yes, of course. Now, when did the symptoms manifest?”

She stared blankly. He cleared his throat again. He’d heard TV news personalities weren’t the brightest bulbs.

“Um, yes. Let me rephrase that. When did you start having trouble with the pee-pee?”

Angela described her day, leaving out her encounter with Dr. Mermes. The doctor then performed a full exam and ran some tests. After shuttling from room to room several times for these, Angela found herself back with him. She was dressed by now only in a short hospital gown and her diaper.

“I confess to being puzzled, Ms. Yoshida.”

His perplexed expression worried her enough that her thumb moved unconsciously into her mouth. He stared several seconds before continuing.

“Yes. Well, your urine is clear. No sign of infection. On exam, the only abnormality I noticed was a surprising laxity of your pelvic floor, almost as though it had lost all muscle tone. I’m at a loss to explain how it could have happened so suddenly.” He watched her suck her thumb, speechless and wide-eyed. “Ahem. Yes. Perhaps this has been building longer than you admit. Your lower extremity reflexes also seem somewhat hyper-responsive, as though there may be some recent changes in voluntary muscle control there as well. Have you had any difficulty walking?”

She nodded. “Woobly moobly,” she mumbled around her thumb.

“Yes, wobbly. I’m not surprised.” He cleared his throat again. “Um, Ms. Yoshida, understand I’m not being judgmental here, but, um, how long have you been sucking your thumb?”

Angela stopped, aghast. Her actions had been completely unconscious. She hid her hand guiltily, then feigned indignation.

“Me no…” She shook her head and concentrated. “I do NOT suck my thumb, thank you.”

“But you were just…”

“I had something stuck between my teeth,” she insisted primly, the social faux pas more desirable than the truth.

“Oh. Yes, of course.” His tone left no doubt about his skepticism. “Well, again, I’m at a loss to explain your symptoms. It’s almost as though some of your motor functions had reverted to near infancy levels.” He looked at her – and her thumb – meaningfully.

She bridled again.

“Me no baby!” she insisted hotly.

“Ah, no, obviously not.” His gaze involuntarily swept her very adult and mostly exposed body. “And yet some of your behavior is…puzzling. I recommend a period of observation in hospital. Perhaps with some counseling…”

“Me no cwazy!” she shouted, kicking her legs wildly in a tantrum. “Me a big TV star. No stay in stupid hopital.”

She started to get off the table, not noticing that she did so by first lying down on her stomach, and then slowly lowering her feet to the floor. She stood carefully, needing all her concentration to stay upright without support. “Gonna go home,” she announced.

“Really, Ms. Yoshida, although I can’t hold you against your will, I strongly…”

“Gonna…Go…HOME!” Angela yelled, jumping up and down in a fury, then holding her breath threateningly.

“Of course, of course. Right away. Nurse!” he called for help.

The nurse came in to find Angela confronting the doctor with crossed arms and puffed cheeks. Was she starting to turn blue?

“Get Ms. Yoshida’s clothes,” he ordered. “She’s leaving. Immediately.”

Angela released her breath with a whoosh, then looked triumphantly from doctor to nurse.

She barely noticed the warmth that flooded her diaper, as if on cue.

Half an hour later, she stood much less confidently in the foyer of the hospital. When she had calmed down, she had regained a measure of perspective on her dilemma and acknowledged in her own mind that some help might be useful. But where to get it? It suddenly seemed like a big, scary world out there. Her heart sank even more when she thought she saw another station’s TV truck out the window. She might be heading into a videotape ambush.

To complete her misery, she was wearing a wet diaper beneath her clothes. She had been too embarrassed to admit it or change in front of the staff (though not too embarrassed to grab the other diapers the nurse had originally brought in). She walked slowly, with a slight waddle to her gait, trying to avoid contact with the undergarment. She felt tired and cranky, and fought an urge to burst into tears, feeling a strange certainty that if she cried long and hard enough, someone would appear to take care of her.

Luckily for her, even without the tears, someone did.

“Angela!”

She turned to find her boyfriend Steve running to hug her. As soon as he did, she did dissolve into tears, but more from relief.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “They wouldn’t let me see you.”

“Oh, Steve,” she sobbed. “It was awful. I’m so embarrassed. And everybody’s being so mean.”

He held her reassuringly.

“Thank God you’re all right. It took forever for me to track you down. The station’s all hyper about this. They’re stonewalling everyone.”

She nodded but continued sniffling. “Uh huh. But they were mean too. And I peed myself, and everybody laughed, and…and…”

“Shh. It’s OK,” he soothed her. “I’m here, and I’m not laughing. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

She sighed, content to let him take control. She held his hand as he led her out a side door to get to his car, having also seen the watchful camera crews out front. He was surprised when she stopped to wait by the back door.

“Hey, where are you going?” he asked, holding the front passenger door open.

She blushed. Why had she automatically chosen the back?

“Um, I’m tired,” she explained. “Maybe I can lie down?”

“Of course,” he agreed. “I’ll take you home.”

She stretched out on the seat, trying to avoid the squishy feel of the wet diaper. Vague plans of how she would get revenge on everyone involved in the day’s nightmare revolved through her mind, but the rolling of the car proved an irresistible hypnotic, and in minutes she had fallen asleep. Steve turned to see her snoring softly, her thumb resting contentedly in her slowly sucking mouth.

………………………………………….

Angela awoke the next morning in her bed. God, what a horrible nightmare. She stretched in exaggerated relief, thankful to wake up at last. She idly noticed she had slept in one of her T-shirts, which was a bit odd. Even stranger, she couldn’t remember getting dressed for bed. Weird.

But not half so weird as the cold, clammy feeling around her privates, almost like a wet spot in the bed. She wondered if she and Steve had been up to something. She lifted the sheet...

And saw the diaper – a padded, white slap in the face.

She dropped the sheet, as though hiding it would make it go away. Last night had to be a dream. She couldn’t…not on camera…it was too humiliating…too awful…

The shock triggered a warm gush that had become depressingly familiar. She had, and she did. The diaper expanded and sagged, bringing her moistly back to reality. She almost burst into tears again as the full memories flooded back.

Steve startled awake in the chair across the room.

“Hey, you’re up,” he mumbled sleepily.

She stared at him wild-eyed.

“Steve, I…” She pointed helplessly at the diaper.

“Oh, yeah. Hope you don’t mind. You were wet when I put you to bed, so I thought I’d better change…” He noticed the drooping material. “Oh. You’re wet again, aren’t you?”

“I’m…wet,” she agreed slowly, as though impossible to accept. “And you had to CHANGE me last night?”

“You were pretty sound asleep, and I found the extra…pads in your stuff,” he explained, then smiled in what he hoped was a disarming way.

“YOU CHANGED ME?!”

He quailed. What were you supposed to do when your girlfriend had wet her diaper? It was not a question he’d had to face before, and he thought he’d dealt with it fairly well.

“It’s not like I hadn’t seen everything there before,” he protested weakly

She blushed. “That’s not the point.” Her anger and frustration flared back to life, and she didn’t notice the slight shift in her voice and words as it did. “I am NOT a baby. I do NOT wear diapers. And, um…” They both glanced at her crotch and the obvious contradiction as she said that, making her trail off helplessly. Her mind seemed to shift slightly as she pondered her predicament. She finally changed tactics and suddenly slapped the bed. “Me no supposed to go pee-pee in me pants.”

He looked at her strangely, triggering another rise in anger.

“Why you look at me like that? Me big girl. NO need diapees! Me no new goo da!”

Now his expression showed confusion. She thought she’d better clear this up right now.

“Goo blue ga goo?” she demanded.

It was, admittedly, a difficult question to answer. Steve simply stared.

“Ga na bah boo,” she snorted at last, satisfied her point had been made. She rolled to the edge of the bed, and carefully lowered herself to the floor. She could take care of herself. In a huff, she stalked haughtily to the bathroom.

On all fours.

Steve’s mouth hung open as he watched his girlfriend crawl away, her head held up disdainfully, apparently unconcerned by her undignified appearance and actions. Her diaper-clad bottom wiggled exaggeratedly with her movements, and was positioned for maximum display. Maybe it was a joke or game to cover her embarrassing incontinence. Whatever the case, he found himself strangely excited by her baby-like retreat. He had to rouse himself from a rising sexual excitement.

“Um, Angela?”

She turned, still on all fours.

“Are you OK? Is this a joke?”

“Goo,” she sniffed dismissingly, finishing her crawl to the bathroom and leaving him as uncertain as before.

Once inside, however, Angela paused, strangely perplexed at what she was supposed to do. She sat wide-legged in her wet diaper and looked up at the out of reach counter.

Why had she come here? Of course, it was the bathroom. She was here to … change her diaper. How did she do that? She stared dumbly at her pelvis for a minute. No buttons, no snaps. How the heck did this thing come off? Unconsciously, her thumb entered her mouth as she considered the problem.

The phone rang, and Steve picked it up.

“Hello? Yes. Well, just a minute.”

He set the phone down and walked to the bathroom. Inside, Angela sat sucking her thumb and pulling vaguely at the adhesive strips holding her diaper. She blinked questioningly at him.

“It’s your producer,’ he explained. “Wants to know how you’re doing. They’re worried you signed out AMA from the hospital.”

She pulled her thumb out and replied testily.

“Ga ga slmpthppp. Ba ba ba.” The thumb popped back in.

“Ooookay.” He walked back to the phone. “She, um, can’t talk right now. Uh huh. But they….OK, I’ll give her the message.”

Still in the bathroom, Angela found that the harder she tried to think, the more scrambled her thoughts became. She was forgetting entirely the stigma that she was wearing a diaper, replaced by the simple thought that it needed to be changed. Why wasn’t it happening? She began to bounce up and down on her padded bottom, crying in frustration.

Steve reappeared. “Angela, what’s wrong?”

She pointed at her diaper.

“You’re mad you’re in a diaper?” Angry shake of the head. “No. OK, you want me to get you a new one?” She considered this, but still seemed unhappy. “You…want me to change you?” He cringed, expecting another angry outburst, but instead this seemed to hit home.

“Gaa!” She smiled and lay back expectantly.

Steve’s heart raced, unsure what Angela was playing at or where this was going. He did know that he was beginning to find her play-acting tremendously exciting, and decided to buy into the game. He kneeled down and unsnapped her diaper with a trembling hand.

Of course, to Angela, it wasn’t a game. She cooed happily as he lifted her legs to scoot out the used diaper, even grabbing at her toes as best she could. This exposed her in an especially prominent and lewd way, but she didn’t seem to mind.

Steve certainly did, but in a good way. It was all he could do to put the new diaper on properly without giving in to the distraction. Still, uncertain as yet what the rules in this new game were, he decided to keep to her implied script. He finished changing her.

“There, all done,” he proclaimed, patting her gently.

Strangely, the announcement seemed to act as a trigger, suddenly clearing Angela’s thoughts. She stopped babbling and sat up, turning bright red and grabbing at her pelvis protectively.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, pushing him away.

Steve was hurt and perplexed. (As a man, he knew it was dangerous to try to understand women’s games, but this one seemed especially difficult to navigate.)

“You just told me to change you,” he complained plaintively.

“I did no such…” Angela trailed off, as her jumbled memory revealed just that. “Oh, Steve, I’m sorry. I did.” She looked in confusion at the nice, dry diaper covering her bottom. “Um, thanks, I guess,” she mumbled.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked in concern. “Are you feeling all right? Maybe we should go back to the doctor…”

“No!” Angela interrupted. As bad as this was in private, it had been far worse with strangers. She tried to smile reassuringly and put on a little dignity (no easy task when you’re sitting on the bathroom floor in a diaper). “I’m…fine. Really. I just wanted to fool around a little. I guess this…bladder infection thing has me so upset…well, I figure if I’m gonna look the part,” she patted the diaper, “Why not act it? Sorry if I upset you.”

He smiled back and pulled her close.

“I wasn’t upset. I sorta liked it,” he admitted.

“You did?” she asked, shocked. She felt an unexpected thrill at his admission, and the hint of a different kind of wetness. “I mean, the diaper and looking at me that way and everything – weren’t you disgusted?”

“Nothing about you disgusts me,” he countered. “And as far as looking, it’s sort of neat looking at you in a different way.” He gave in to a bit of a leer.

“Different is right,” she snapped, still confused but somehow less desperate about her plight. “OK, get out of here while I shower and clean up. I gotta get ready for work.”

“Oh.” His face fell. “That’s what the call was about. They said not to come in until you’re sure you’re OK. They’re putting you on medical leave for a week.”

She sagged, remembering the on air embarrassment, then noticed his hesitation.

“Anything else?”

“Janet says the word is if you pull anything like that again, you’re gone.”

Angela flared, embarrassment replaced by anger.

“How dare they?” she fumed. “I CARRY that team. Those imbe…idi……stupid heads. Me wins wots of prizes cuz me weally good. Me goonga…ga…” she sputtered.

He misinterpreted her degenerating speech as anger.

“Hey, calm down,” he insisted. “They wouldn’t dare, and couldn’t afford to. You’re the best they’ve got, and they know it.”

She subsided into a glower, her speech center slowly recovering as the anger subsided.

“You get ready,” he offered. “I’ll call in for a personal day and make some breakfast. We can treat it as a holiday – go out and have some fun.”

“Fun?” she asked, suddenly hopeful. “Like what?”

“Um, shopping maybe? You always like…”

“Oh goody, goody!” She jumped up and down while holding his hands in joyous triumph, continuing in a sing-song. “I get to buy some clothes, I get to buy some clothes…”

Steve watched her face shine in childish glee and nodded absently. She broke off to strip unashamedly in front of him, breasts bouncing, and then jumped into the shower, whooping when the water turned on. She was certainly acting strangely.

His opinion didn’t change when she eventually joined him in the kitchen an hour later. Her hair was back in pigtails, and she didn’t have a trace of makeup. She wore a too short, too tight plaid skirt, white blouse with vest, knee socks, and flats, giving her the appearance of a schoolgirl in uniform. Well, a rather well endowed schoolgirl anyway.

Now, it is a fact that the male body is well conditioned from years of exposure to this uniform while an always horny teenager to respond to this outfit in a particular way. Steve did, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping open appreciatively.

“Is something wrong?” she asked innocently, waving at her clothes. “I felt like dressing down today. Can you believe I can still fit into this skirt from high school?”

“No…I mean, yes…I mean, wow,” he stammered, wishing he hadn’t offered to go out. “It’s very, um, eye catching.”

“Good.” She adjusted the too short skirt, feeling a strange thrill at going out in public dressed like this. She sat down to breakfast, pouring extra sugar on her cereal, lots of jam on her toast (which she made rather a mess of), and skipping coffee for a glass of milk. She squirmed a bit, feeling the cold seat of the chair on her bare thighs and wondering if perhaps the skirt was a bit too short (an inherent absurdity in men’s opinion), but also feeling a special warmth at the thought of showing off, possibly even having someone notice the reason her panties were so stretched and bulky. She shook her head, trying to clear the odd thoughts, and jumped instead to talking about their day.

“And then I want to try that new place, Gappers. They’ve got some really cool things, and I’ve never shopped there before.”

“Isn’t that for young teens?” he asked.

“Like, don’t be so categorical.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not talking Disney outfits.” Though she no sooner said it than her eyes seemed to consider the prospect. Putting it on hold, she charged on. “Then maybe some eats in the food court, then a movie, and then…”

He interrupted, although he hated to bring up a sore subject.

“Angela, aren’t you a little concerned about work? I mean, they sounded like they were pretty worried and upset. And usually you’re pretty hyper about who’s getting the most camera time.”

She paused, considering. Work somehow didn’t seem so important.

“I don’t know what they’re worried about. I deserve a day off, and it’s not like there’s anything weally…I mean, really wrong with me.” She paused again, remembering her expose that the station had been leading all week. Maybe she did need to reconsider going in. The thought seemed to send a tingle through her body, and Angela was beginning to distrust these tingles. As if to prove the point, even thinking about continuing with the story seemed to draw her thumb back into her mouth. “Me do story later,” she decided, kicking her legs under the table. Wanna have some fun.”

“So, um, what do you want to do?” he asked, eyes drawn inexorably to the way her leg kicking was exposing her legs and panties.

She followed his gaze and giggled. “We can play that later. Wanna go to the mall first.”

They did just that. Angela ran happily from store to store, Steve in tow, buying impulsively. She chose several brightly colored, juvenile style dresses, and picked up some hair ribbons to match which she promptly tied into her pigtails. Some crop tops, flashy costume jewelry and tight jeans were added to the growing clutch of bags. Several times, she slowed down, looking a bit quizzically at her purchases and beginning to sound like her old self. Each time, something happened to irritate or agitate her – a delay at checkout, an out of stock item, or overheard comment about her strange attire – and she’d slip back into childish joy.

Not everything about her behavior was childish, however. She also felt a decidedly adult sexual thrill as she saw people staring. She knew deep down that her dress was too short and decidedly inappropriate, but it only seemed to excite her. Worse, she realized that people might even notice the bulge of material beneath her panties if she wasn’t careful.

And she wasn’t. She bounced happily as they walked along. She couldn’t pass a gumball machine without putting in a coin, and was soon blowing bubbles with an increasingly unwieldy wad of gum. At the play island, she dropped her bags and jumped onto the coin carousel, sitting astride a too small plastic pony with her knees up and her dress at her hips, waving enthusiastically as she rode round and round.

Steve stood by uncomfortably, noticing how many of the nearby men appreciated the leg show she provided. Angela noted it too, and felt another sexual charge, unconsciously rubbing herself against the saddle horn of the plastic pony and using it in a way undreampt of by its designers (then again, you never know…). The knowledge that somebody might notice her diaper made her wet in a way unrelated to her new bladder control problems.

Finally, she decided it was time to eat: hot dogs, fries, and sugary slushies. A far cry from her usual stir fry or salad, but Steve didn’t care this time – this was the sort of food he used to sneak anyway. Angela was stuffing her face when she saw some teenage girls at another table point at her legs, making her realize she’d exposed herself again. Worse, one whispered something to her companion, they both stared more openly and in some disbelief, then broke up laughing. She stuck her tongue out at them. They made an obscene gesture and laughed more openly. She was sure they’d spotted the diaper beneath her panties.

And the thought gave her a sexual rush that made her shudder. She squirmed a bit in the seat as the feeling built, then unexpectedly mixed with a different pelvic pressure that came from the super-sized drink. The stimulations merged in her brain, neural paths fusing more completely and confirming a whole new side to her sexuality that had been slowly building all day. She was very horny and her bladder was very full. She wanted release, and at the moment, only one type was available to her. She shuddered and moaned softly.

A minute later, she turned to Steve and tugged on his sleeve.

“Steve, I’m wet,” she whispered.

“Wet?” he asked, then opened his eyes wide. “Oh. You mean…?”

She nodded, barely able to resist a comforting thumb suck. Wouldn’t that give those girls something to think about?

“What can we do?” he continued. “Do you have any more…umm…”

“Diapees?” she finished. Funny, why had she resisted calling them that before? “Uh uh.” She squirmed, feeling the warm wetness in a new light, the sensations from her pelvis magnified and acute. She looked around, especially at the girls who had laughed at her. Did anyone realize she had wet her pants? The thought made her squirm even more, almost drawing a second moan. She was feeling so deliciously naughty and free. She jumped to her feet and grabbed Steve’s arm. “Come on. We’ve gotta go home.”

He grabbed her packages and followed. Her gait was measured and a bit wide spaced to accommodate the heavy diaper. Every eye seemed to meet hers knowingly, and she felt alternating flashes of shame and increasing sexual excitement.

In the passenger seat of the car, she patted her panties experimentally. The diaper beneath was heavy and wet, but her clothes were absolutely dry. A skirt to hide the bulge and nobody would ever know. How wonderful. Why, she could wear these whenever…

She stopped. Why was she rejoicing at the thought of wearing diapers? She should be horrified. But Steve didn’t seem to mind, and the rush she’d felt when deliberately releasing and wetting herself had been incredible – liberating both physically and psychologically. It was all so confusing. She gave up thinking and instead sucked her thumb contentedly.

In her apartment, she immediately dropped her skirt, her bulging diaper now obvious beneath the stretched panties. She pulled the underwear off too, leaving her in a shirt and diaper. She knew she should get rid of the wet diaper as well, but hesitated for some reason. There was something else tugging at her subconsciously. Steve had already retrieved the last of the extra diapers she’d taken from the hospital. When she saw him holding it, a strange feeling swept her. She suddenly knew exactly what she wanted.

She lay down slowly, frightened, excited and hopeful. She held her breath and watched for his reaction.

It took a few seconds for the implication to hit home. Even then, Steve hesitated, realizing they were at a watershed (so to speak) in their relationship. Angela was offering herself more completely and in a way requiring more trust than any standard physical intimacy they had shared previously. Their eyes locked for several seconds and an unspoken confirmation was exchanged before he smiled and spoke.

“Does little Angie need her diapee changed?”

Angela almost wept in relief. She bucked her hips happily, making him laugh out loud. He knelt down to kiss her, causing an entirely different warmth to flood her, then stood again.

“Well, I’d better get some things to do this right then.”

He disappeared into the bathroom while she waited in anticipation, both a pure, almost childlike expectation of being taken care of – of putting herself completely in another’s tender care – and the rising sexual excitement which she now associated with her loss of control.

Steve reappeared carrying towels, baby powder and lotion. He knelt by her side, helping to lift her bottom and spreading the towel beneath it. He gently caressed her legs.

“All right, beautiful,” he said lovingly. “Let’s get that wet diaper off.”

He carefully pulled the snaps, lifted her hips and tugged the diaper to remove it. The last time this had happened, Angela’s mind had been clouded, making her perceptions those of a real baby. This time she knew exactly what he was doing.

And loved it.

Angela gasped at his touch and the feel of cool air on her damp pelvis. She reveled in her entirely exposed sex, feeling more utterly naked than from a simple lack of cover. Her obvious excitement at her condition made her feel even more vulnerable.

Steve noticed it too. He gently massaged her skin with a fluffy towel, drawing slowly closer to her glistening labia.

“My, you ARE wet, aren’t you?” he asked with a wink. “You must be enjoying this as much as I am.” He drew a finger lightly along her slick cleft and made her shudder. “Poor baby needs some relief. Let’s see if there’s anything I can do to help.”

He splashed some baby oil onto his palm and began massaging her skin, starting well above her pubic area and only slowly moving lower. Angela jumped at the feel of the palm-warmed liquid, then moaned as he began rubbing closer and closer to her sex. He teased her a bit, using more oil to caress her thighs and anal crease, until she began to move her hips involuntarily to direct his fingers to where she needed them. She moaned when he finally relented and began the first, light brushes along her sopping slit, then sighed and cried in delight as his fingers probed more forcefully, the oil superfluous as her juices had already produced a slippery, glowingly sensitive and steadily building arousal. The usual pleasure of the sexual stimulation seemed multiplied by the circumstances of the delivery – magnified by the release of control so that she was completely lost in the sensation.

She felt open, helpless and somehow sexually supercharged, at last able to completely surrender to the pleasure growing within her. And it grew quickly. Steve worked his fingers expertly, teasing her lips before moving more and more attention to her clit. She had been excited so long and to such an extent, that when her orgasm erupted, it almost caught her by surprise. She thrashed and screamed, grabbing his hand and holding it tightly against her while she bucked and spasmed.

When she finally settled down, exhausted, happy and surprisingly at ease, he leaned down to kiss her.

“We’re gonna need a lot more diapers,” he whispered.

………………………..

Three months later, Angela sighed in pleasure as she opened her door. It was so good to get out early. It gave her some time to get ready before Steve came home.

Of course, the old Angela had never left early – she could have never let the opportunity for more air time or another story pass by – but then, both she and work had changed remarkably. She now had the reputation as an uncompromisingly honest reporter. That turnaround had been public and dramatic. She had torn up her expose on hypnosis therapy on camera, confessing the “exaggerations” she had made for shock value. Only her obvious regret and sincerity had prevented her career from being immediately terminated. Unfortunately, the station then had nearly sacked her when it became obvious her conversion meant no more lurid (if occasionally manufactured) scandal pieces. However, her new openness and honesty immediately struck such a chord with viewers, they found she had actually become more popular.

The same was true with her coworkers. The new Angela drew the best crews, and had an easy going and trustful relationship with them and the news director. She seemed amazingly calm, even-tempered, and obliging now.

Of course, there were persistent rumors that when she did lose her temper, her outbursts became almost childish in their intensity – veritable tantrums that could leave her sitting on the floor, crying and kicking her legs. A few even whispered about thumb-sucking in private, but they were generally treated with disdain.

Angela smiled at the thought while happily sorting the mail and sucking on the pacifier she kept by the door. As if she could be satisfied by a mere thumb.

She walked to the kitchen and chose a nipple-topped bottle of milk from the fridge, sucking on it while moving on to the bedroom. Her knee-length skirt fell to the floor, joining her discarded shoes and shirt. In obvious relief, she stripped off her pantyhose, putting on some soft, pastel ankle socks instead. Into the bathroom to braid her hair into pigtails, smiling at the reflection of the woman wearing the flowery, teen-style bra and bright pink rubber pants, one of Steve’s recent gifts. Underneath, the pants betrayed the bulk of an extra thick, extra soft and fluffy cotton diaper. They were a bit more expensive than disposables, but she loved indulging herself.

Well, babying herself might be the more appropriate term.

She removed the last traces of makeup from her face just about the time she finished the bottle. She removed the bra and put on a brightly colored dress in a little girl style. It was tight and short, and left little to the imagination, just the way she – and Steve - liked them. She walked back to the kitchen while gently rubbing the stiff nipples indenting the front. She had been a good girl today – she deserved another bottle.

Besides, she wanted to be good and wet for Steve.

END

Copyright 2000 by Nomdreserv