princesspottypants
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Glitched
🕑 Added 2023-03-29 12:00:02 +0000 UTCHere's this month's Community Story!
Ramona held out, biting her bottom lip in anticipation as she listened, positive that, if she was able to make it through the long list of options that, at the end, it would give her the chance to talk to somebody, to speak to an actual person who could straighten out whatever it was that had gone wrong.
And something had very definitely gone wrong; that should have been obvious to anyone who saw her now, lying on her sofa, long, brown hair in pigtails, wearing only the top half of a set of childish pajamas... And a pair of bedwetter pants.
It could be worse, certainly... Her last attempt at getting this rectified proved that. Her eyes flicked down towards her companion on the couch as she waited, a redness tinging her cheeks at the stuffed bear in a baby diaper that had been delivered to her house that day. She'd been so excited, too, so sure that her rant had done something when the automated voice had told her, "Your complaint has been registered. Appropriate measures are being taken," and when she'd seen the box.
Had they sent her a new phone, perhaps? Some kit to reset it? The box had seemed too large for either of those, really, but she hadn't thought about that in the moment as she tore into it, pushing aside packing peanuts until, at last, she saw what it was, and stopped cold. When she finally took it out, it only got worse. Was it a threat? Was she being told that she should be grateful she'd been given Goodnites instead of diapers?
She got her answer when she emptied out the box, baffled, hoping there was something else there. In fact, there was, though it was hardly helpful. It was simply a printed note, telling her, "Perhaps caring for this little one will show you how mature you are, Ramona!"
It was a trick that might have worked on her, if she were truly the little girl the system seemed convinced she was... But she wasn't. She was a young woman in her twenties with a job, a social life, her own apartment... Who would ever think that now, though, if they were to see her like this?
It had all started a few afternoons ago when she hopped on her phone to pick out a new outfit for a date she was supposed to go on. She knew it was the afternoon when it happened, because that morning, she'd been idly flipping through the app that cataloged her closet, putting together outfits, wrinkling her nose and sighing at each, none of them looking right to her... Or maybe she'd just been trying to find an excuse to do some shopping.
She'd been responsible enough to put that part off until she got home from work, stepping out of the smart cab and into her apartment building, already pulling out her phone in the elevator to begin her search. She was surprised, at first, to see how cutesy everything was when she'd told her shopping app specifically that she was going on a date; embarrassingly, it was only when one of her older neighbors who had gotten on the elevator with her peeked over her shoulder and asked, "Are you buying a gift for your little sister? Or your niece?" that she noticed she was being shown things solely from the children's department. On closer inspection, she saw that the query she'd entered had been misinterpreted as 'play date.'
It was a strange error, but easy enough to fix. "No," she told her phone once she was in her apartment. "Not a play date, an actual date! I need a whole new outfit, from the ground up... In fact, let's start with the lingerie."
The icon had spun for a moment or two too long before responding, "Sure! Here are the underwear I found for you!" and popping up a set of search results even more humiliating than the clothes, so much so that she'd almost dropped her phone. "No, they're for me!" she'd squealed in frustration, scrolling through, eyes bulging in shock and anger as the options shifted from merely childish to outright insulting, the bras gaining more lace, ribbons, and padding, and the underwear became something else entirely. "I don't need a training bra, and I definitely don't need training pants! Show me the real stuff!"
No matter what she said, the shopping app refused to budge, to give her any option suited for an adult rather than a little girl. "Fine," she huffed at last. "I'll stick with what I have."
She picked out an outfit on her closet app, and a bra and panty set that were sexy enough, just in case the date went really well, even if she would have liked something new. She threw her phone onto the bed and went to take a shower, throwing her work outfit into the hamper where she heard a chime that signaled the clothes were being sent to the laundry. It did strike her as odd, since it seemed that it was ahead of schedule, but it was all automated, so she didn't keep that close a track of it.
She expected the clothes she'd chosen to be waiting for her at the front of her closet when she got out of the shower. Instead, her closet door refused to budge, and when she went to her phone to see what was the matter, her closet app gave her an error, telling her, "No appropriate clothing found. Taking emergency measures."
There was a knock on her door, and, with no access to her clothes, she had to wrap a towel around herself to go see what it was, finding a box there when she answered it, filled with new outfits from the shopping app. She hadn't picked any of them out, but she could tell they were the ones she'd looked at the longest, so the app must have decided that meant she liked them the best, even though, in truth, it was more like they were the ones she was most flabbergasted were being recommended to her.
"I see by the tracking information that your new wardrobe has arrived," her app said when she opened it. "Please load it into your closet at your earliest convenience. For now, your suggested outfit is..."
And it showed something very similar to what she had on now. "No!" she gasped. "I'm not wearing that! I-I don't need...!" She shook her head, digging frantically through the box, stomach churning as she found not a single pair of real, big girl panties, only Goodnites and Pull-Ups. Clearly, the app had stored her preference for not wearing anything over her legs to bed, nothing more on her bottom half than panties, because there were no sleep pants, or shorts, or shirts long enough to reach them... It was very different now, however, given what she was going to be stuck wearing with her tops. "A-And I have a date!" she protested. "I'm not going to bed!"
She was wrong about all of it; she had nothing else to wear, so she did end up reluctantly going with what the app had picked out... And she didn't go out, because the app refused to order her a car to take her to the bar they'd chosen for the date, or even to unlock her apartment door to let her out, turning her television off promptly at 8 pm, giving her no choice afterwards other than to sulkily go to bed.
The next day had, somehow, found a way to amplify her humiliation further. She hadn't wanted to put the clothes into her closet, but since the app knew what it had ordered, it suggested her an outfit anyway. She didn't like it, of course, the pink leggings and ruffled pink top far too childish for her, yet, ultimately, the idea of trying to cobble something together herself felt like too much work, as did digging through everything from the box, so she'd hung it all up so the closet app could take care of that for her.
She'd known right away, once she had it on, that the clothes weren't going to work, as it was a constant struggle to keep her leggings from sliding down, revealing the waistband - or more - of her Pull-Ups. It would be bad enough, letting her co-workers see her in this outfit... If they spotted what she had on underneath... The closet app refused to give her another option, however, telling her she was going to be late, urging her to go down to the car it had ordered for her.
Pulling on her Velcro sneakers, she'd raced downstairs, plopping into the backseat of the car, watching through the windshield as it automatically drove her not to work, but to a school. "No!" she whined. "This isn't right!" The car wouldn't accept any other destination, wouldn't do anything until she got out. Furiously, she started to order another car, only to be told she was locked out of that app until after school hours.
She whimpered, looking around, tugging nervously on her leggings, hating how well she seemed to blend in with the other students in terms of appearance. She had no idea where she was, much less how far it would be to try to walk to work, whether it would be possible, which direction to head... Seeing little choice, she'd shuffled into the school, going to the office to explain things, to see if anyone there was old-fashioned enough to have a manual car and could drive her to her job.
Immediately, she knew she was screwed when the secretary greeted her, "Hello, Ramona! We've been waiting for you! Are you ready for your first day?"
"No!" she groaned, stomping her foot. "I don't belong here! I'm an adult!"
The secretary paused for a moment, tilting her head, then shook it. "I'm sure that's not true, sweetie. The system says you're registered for classes here."
"It's a mistake!" Ramona insisted.
"Don't be silly," the secretary brushed her off. "The system doesn't make mistakes. Now, I'm going to take you to the school nurse first. She'll help you deal with your... issue."
Ramona's face burned as she followed the woman's gaze, realized her leggings had slid down without her noticing. "I-I don't..!" she whimpered, pulling them back up.
"Whatever you say, dear," the secretary said, in a tone that made it clear she'd heard the same from plenty of other children. "Come along."
"No!" Ramona stomped her foot again. "No, I won't! I'm not a kid! I'm an adult!"
"Young lady," the secretary's eyes had narrowed, "I suggest you behave yourself... You don't want to make a trip to the principal's office your very first day."
"Yes, I do!" Ramona told her. "If you won't listen, I'll explain it to them!"
She did her best... And was told exactly the same thing. "It sounds to me like you're trying to get out of class by making up stories," the principal had shaken his head. "Doesn't that seem more likely than the system thinking a grown woman belongs in school?"
"W-Well... Yeah," Ramona had to agree. "But..."
No buts were accepted, other than hers across his knees. She squealed and kicked her legs, heart racing, positive he wasn't about to do what she thought he was, up until his hand smacked down hard on her wriggling backside, the pain and shock of it prompting her bladder to let go, to dribble out a stream of wetness that led to a visit to the nurse after her spanking was done, and a note to be added to her record before she was sent off to class.
She'd made her first attempt to fix things after that; how could she not, when she'd been subjected to a spanking, a pair of wet Pull-Ups, and a full day of classes, complete with homework that her phone made her finish once she got home before it would give her access to any of its features?
She could remember her mother telling her that if she waited long enough, she could talk to a real person, though she'd never bothered to try it herself until now. It had seemed so old-fashioned, so unnecessary... The automated systems were advanced enough now, she could do anything she needed by going through the menus, so long as she listened closely, hit the right numbers.
But, strangely, no matter how far down she drilled into the customer service system, nothing like this ever came up, so she went back to her mom's advice and waited until it allowed her to tell it what she needed instead. She'd went on her rant, getting heated up as she fumed into her phone about everything that had happened to her as she squirmed on her bed, feeling the mortifying sensation of her Goodnites between her thighs, reminding her of how urgent this was.
The next day, it wasn't fixed. She'd been sent to school again, and that afternoon, she'd gotten the box, and the bear. Now, she was back to trying to wait it out, to see if her mother was right. All anyone would have to do was look at her records and see that something was wrong...
There was nobody to do that, apparently. She waited, and waited, and waited, and never once did she hear a human's voice. She waited so long, in fact, that she wasn't able to make it to the bathroom in time. Not fully, at least... She did feel her bladder filling up, obviously, and she eventually hurried to the toilet, but she was terrified that the moment she put her phone down for a second, she'd miss her one chance, so she awkwardly tried to shimmy her Goodnites down her legs with one hand, and didn't quite make it.
It wasn't much, just another trickle, even less than what had happened during her spanking. She wasn't going to put them back on after that, however, and they were kept in her closet with everything else, so she had to request a new pair. She was met with a new prompt, asking her why, her cheeks lighting up as she was forced to choose between admitting to wetting or messing herself.
She went with the former, of course, as there was no option to back out, to change her mind. There was also no opportunity to clarify, to tell the app that it barely counted, that she was, at the most, damp, not wet. To the app, it didn't matter. It was two accidents in two days.
The delivery came before her bedtime, and this time, the doorbell kept ringing until she answered it, towel wrapped around herself again, as the delivery person walked past her and into her room, opening up the box himself. She knew better, by now, than to hope for the best, than to think it might be something more mature. Never in a million years would she have guessed what she'd see inside, though, that it would be as bad as it was.
Diapers. It was a case of full-blown diapers. "I-I don't need those!" she gasped, shaking her head.
"Well, I'm sure somebody here does," the delivery guy shrugged. "I was given explicit instructions to load them into this closet myself."
"It's a mistake!" she wailed at him. "Don't do it! Take them away!"
But he had his instructions, and the whining of someone dressed like a little girl weren't going to overrule what the system told him to do.
The next morning's chosen outfit for her included a diaper, unsurprisingly. Her stomach lurched a bit, seeing that, though she refused, staying in her Goodnites from the night before... Until she got to school, and immediately heard, over the PA, a summons to the nurse's office, where, to her horror, a diaper was already sitting on the exam table, waiting for her.
Was it any surprise that, once she got home, she pulled a bottle of wine out of her refrigerator? If anything, it was shocking she hadn't turned to that before, but she tried to be responsible, to not drink during the work week... Apparently, she didn't work anymore, though, and everything she was learning in school was so boring, so basic, that, if she did go back, which she didn't intend on, she still knew she'd have no issue doing it even if she did wind up with a hangover.
And she very much needed some alcohol now. "I don't need diapers!" she'd protested to the nurse. "I don't!" But the woman had already been informed of the 'accident' she'd had the night before, had updated her file accordingly. Not even Ramona's accomplishment of staying dry the entire day - something that shouldn't have felt like an accomplishment at all to someone her age - would convince the woman otherwise, as she refused to give Ramona her Goodnites back, much less the big girl panties she knew she deserved.
Ramona had, in turn, refused to get into the smart cab that was waiting for her after school, stomping down the sidewalk until she found one of the few physical clothes stores left. If she couldn't order what she needed through her shopping app, she'd get it there; if anything, she was embarrassed it had taken her so long to think of it, but she couldn't recall the last time she'd bothered to go shopping in person.
She was too self-conscious to try anything on there, though she did grab herself a package of real underwear, some normal bras, a few outfits fit for an adult, shoving them onto the counter and anxiously fidgeting as she watched them being rung up. She'd have to fight years of habit, but so long as she didn't put these into her closet, didn't register them to the app, she could keep them separate, wear them whenever she wanted to, instead of whatever the app recommended for her.
When she went to pay, however, the payment app gave her an error, no matter which of her credit cards she told it to use. "Do you have any cash?" the worker asked after a few attempts.
"No, of course not!" Ramona wrinkled her nose. Who carried cash anymore?! "I swear, I'm good for it... I-I need it... Please..."
"Sorry," the worker shrugged. "If you can't pay..."
Ramona stared at her, pouting, for a long moment, then, in desperation, grabbed at the bags. The worker saw what she was doing, hands closing around them as well, the two struggling momentarily before Ramona felt one of the bags slip free of the other woman's grip. Without waiting to see which bag it had been, what was in it, she turned and ran, barely making it out of the door of the shop before she heard the security gate slam down behind her.
She happily got into a smart cab then, let it drive her home. As she caught her breath in the back seat, she looked into the bag, disappointed to see it was only the bras and shirts. Still, it was better than nothing.
She used her phone to unlock her apartment door before opening up her window and hurling the phone out of it in frustration, watching it shatter on the sidewalk far below. She had a physical key to her apartment somewhere and she could dig that out, and maybe there was a bit of money her grandmother had given her for her birthday and she'd never bothered to deposit into her bank account... She'd figure something out.
But first, she was going to drink. She ripped off her stupid, childish clothes, putting on a real bra instead of a training one for the first time since this had started, wearing a lacey, see-through shirt over it, feeling very grown-up, other than the diaper around her waist. She had nothing better for there, so it would have to do for now... And, as drunk as she was intending to get tonight, she might need some protection anyway.
And then, to her surprise, she heard a phone ring. It took her a few moments to recognize where it was coming from, to remember the landline she'd been shown when she first moved in, that she'd thought was so quaint, so quirky, for anyone to still have. She hadn't even known whether it actually worked or if it was for show until now, until she picked it up curiously to say, "Hello?"... And find out just how much worse she'd made things for herself.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Ramona! Are you paying attention, young lady?"
Ramona flinched, fidgeting as the bolt of terror she now felt when she heard that voice ran through her, accompanied by the instinctive, fearful dribble into her diaper. It was a vicious cycle... She wanted, so badly, to show she didn't need her diapers, that she was a good girl, but anytime she misbehaved even a little, she was reminded of all the spankings, and mouth-soapings, and other disciplines she'd been put through, and she had another accident, which 'proved' how much she needed to be padded... And to be here.
She had thought, for a moment, when she answered the phone, that it would all be okay, that the social worker who had called to check in on her would believe her, would look into her case and see that she was an adult, but, of course, she was going off of the same information everyone else had. And according to that information, she was a little girl who misbehaved at school, who had tried to buy things she was far too immature for, and then, when she wasn't allowed to, had shoplifted them, who had destroyed her cell phone in an attempt to seemingly try to hide from the consequences of her crime, and whose smart fridge had snitched on her for removing a bottle of wine from it, knowing she was the only one home, and that she was too young to be drinking, as far as it was concerned.
Picking up the phone had confirmed she was, indeed, still there, and that, of course, she didn't have a 'Mommy' to pass the call to. She'd done her best to explain it all, but it had just sounded like a kid throwing a tantrum at not getting what she wanted, and, within minutes, the social worker was at her door ready to whisk her away, off to an orphanage equipped to deal with her bad behavior.
Her very first night, she'd been stripped of the grown-up clothes she'd stolen, scrubbed pink, then had her pubic hair shaved off as the worker shook her head and pondered aloud what parent would allow it to get so unruly before taping Ramona into a diaper and snapping a onesie around it.
"What is this?!" she'd grumbled, tugging at it unhappily. "This is for babies!"
"This is what all our children who need diapers wear," she'd been told. "And your records make it clear that you need those diapers."
"No, I do not!" Ramona had fumed. "I don't need diapers, and I don't belong here! I am an adult! You have no right to do any of this to me!"
She'd gotten the first of many spankings then, and, even through the extra padding of her diaper, it was more painful than any she'd gotten at school, so it was hardly surprising that, true to form, she'd given the worker more evidence of her need of diapers during it. She longed for the relative maturity of Pull-Ups now, especially since the other kids at her school had realized the t-shirts she now wore all the time weren't tucked in, they were onesies, and had taken to pantsing her in the halls.
Even though she was the same size as most of them - and even shorter than some - it hardly seemed fair to fight back, knowing she was so much older than they were, and when she did, she was, of course, the one who wound up getting in trouble, both at school and at the orphanage. Nobody wanted to believe the troublemaker who was on record as being prone to telling lies...
She got teased at the orphanage about her diapers, too, to the point where she started having to spend time with the other children who had to wear them, to be subjected to their infantile games and story-times when she wasn't at school. "It'll be good for you," she was told. "They're all better behaved than you, so you could learn something from them."
But it was all so boring... She'd heard the storybooks a million times, and, unlike the toddlers, she'd barely been entertained by them the first time, much less any time after. How could the workers possibly expect her to pretend otherwise?!
"Yes, I am," Ramona pouted. "The little pig in the brick house..."
"No," the worker shook her head. "I knew you were daydreaming again... You need to get up and go with this nice lady."
Ramona blinked, glancing over, seeing another one of the workers standing at the door, the one who usually walked her out to the school bus every morning. "Wh-Why?" she asked. "School is over for the day..."
"You have an appointment at the orthodontist," the worker at the door informed her, making her blood run cold. "Do you know what they do?"
Of course she did... The 'older' kids had been teasing her, telling her they'd heard the workers discussing Ramona needing braces, but she'd been sure that was all it was. There was no way it would happen... Right? It was already impossible to convince anyone of her true age... Once she had those, nobody would ever believe she was anything more than a naughty, nerdy little diapered schoolgirl....
"No!" Ramona whined. "No, I won't do it!" Not that long ago, she would have protested that she was too old for it, but they'd broken her of that by soaping her mouth every time she said it... How much longer would it be before she stopped fighting at all?
"Ramona," the worker with the storybook warned her, Ramona blushing as she felt another trickle of warmth in her pants, making her wonder if maybe, by now, they were all starting to be right, that perhaps she was beginning to need her diapers. "She has time before your appointment to put a skirt on you, or to take you over her knee, but not both. It's up to you which she does."
It was so nice, for once, to have a choice, to have something that wasn't determined for her, that one of the 'grown-ups', or an app, hadn't decided already... It was just too bad that neither option was going to get her out of this mess. And, at this point, even if her record was straightened out, even if her true identity was restored, there was no going back, especially after the orthodontist was done with her. Who would look at her, in her diapers and onesies, mouth full of braces, and think she could be anything else? Would she even be able to think otherwise when she saw herself in the mirror? Her phone had declared that she was a little girl again, and now, whether she got marched through the orthodontist's office with a red, padded bottom peeking out from the legholes of her onesie, or if she chose to be a good girl and accept it, it was about to become the truth.
Comments
Ulthernon
Incredible! Exactly what I wanted from my description, thanks so much!
