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The Regression Sentence - Part 3
🕑 Added 2022-03-04 21:41:39 +0000 UTC“Bad girl, Hannah!” Mrs Whitehouse scolded her daughter, delivering a smack to the top of her thigh and making her squeal indignantly. “You do not ask for a nappy change, little lady! And you especially do not demand one! Mummy will decide when it’s time to change you out of your icky wet diaper.”
“But Mummyyyy,” Hannah whined, whimpering and trying to protect her bottom with her hands as her mother delivered another swat to her rear, “It’s so disgusting! And you made me take a stupid nap in it!”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s a little bit yucky, Hannah,” Mrs Whitehouse said sternly. “You’re just a baby.”
Hannah clenched her mouth shut to stop herself yelling at her mother. She was a grown woman!
“Besides,” Mrs Whitehouse went on, “your nappy’s only wet. The pamphlets the court gave me recommend not changing you at least until you’ve made a poo-poo.”
Hannah went scarlet. “I’m not gonna poop my pants!” she screeched.
“Oh yes you will,” her mother contradicted her. “Your special formula does more than just weaken your bladder, little one. And Mummy feed you an awful lot of yummy baby food. After your little nap, I’d say it’s only a matter of time before the poopy express arrives.”
Hannah cringed at her mother’s words and shook her head desperately. She would never do that in her pants. But she squirmed uncomfortably on the spot when she realised her mother was right – she did need to go. She could already feel the growing pressure building in her bottom.
“But there’s no need to worry about that now, baby,” her mother said. “It’s time to go downstairs! While you were napping, some visitors arrived to see you!”
“Visitors?!” Hannah squealed, feeling as though someone had just dumped a bucket of ice over her head. She couldn’t be seen like this!
“That’s right, sweetie,” said Mrs Whitehouse, ignoring her daughter’s protests and grabbing her by the arm and dragging her out of her nursery. “Now come along or Mummy will have to spank you again.”
“But Mummy,” Hannah whimpered, “I’m not dressed!”
“Yes you are, honey,” her mother said, glancing over her nearly naked body. “Silly babies like you don’t need to wear anything but their diapers.”
Hannah’s bottom lip trembled as she focused on the sore, red bottom hiding beneath her pee-soaked nappy. She didn’t want to go through that again. But she didn’t want anybody to see her looking like an oversized toddler either! What exactly did visitors mean? Someone from the court come to check up on her, to make sure she really was being treated like a two-year-old?
But when her mother led her downstairs and into the living room, Hannah felt as though her heart had stopped. It wasn’t someone from the court. Half a dozen people were stood around waiting for her, and she recognised all of them.
Her coworkers, her former coworkers, all burst into laughter at the sight of her.
Hannah just stood there, bowlegged in her sodden nappy, with her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ of surprise. She felt almost dizzy with shame. This couldn’t be real. It had to be some sort of nightmare!
“That look really suits you, Hannah!” Peter laughed. He was a handsome man around her own age. They’d slept together sometimes, but now he was looking at her with a mixture of amusement and disbelief, his eyes travelling over her bare breasts and down to her sagging nappy.
“Yeah, nice diapers!” Beatrice taunted. She and her friends had never got on with Hannah – they’d made no secret of how much they disliked what they called her ‘superior attitude', and now they were all cackling like witches together, clearly overjoyed by her little demotion.
“I think someone needs a change!” somebody tittered.
“It wooks wike baby has a vewy wet nappy!” another cooed.
“Awww, look how red she’s getting! That’s adorable!”
Hannah wished she could sink into the ground and disappear. She wished she could turn the tables on the whole lot of them! Her entire body was trembling with shame and fury. She opened her mouth, intending to shout, to scream that she was a grown woman who deserved respect. But a moment later, her bowels suddenly lurched into life. The pressure in her bottom became impossible to control almost immediately. For half a second, Hannah clamped down on her sphincter and tried to hold it in. But then it was too late.
Before she could do a thing to stop herself, as if her body were acting on autopilot, Hannah scrunched up her bright red face, stuck her thickly padded bottom out behind her, and started pooping her diaper.
She was barely aware of it as her audience shrieked and roared with laughter. She was too busy squatting there in disbelief as her body filled her nappy with the yuckiest of messes. She felt absurd. She felt like a joke. Come and see! The amazing, pants-filling adult baby! She’s gone from boardrooms to baby pants! How could anyone ever take her seriously again?! How could she take herself seriously? She’d been turned into a big, stinky baby!
“WAAAAAAAH!” Hannah cried pathetically, as she finished messing her pants and straightened up with a heavy load in her britches. She could feel it weighing down the back of her nappy, causing it to sag even lower between her legs. “WAAAAAAH! I don’t wanna be a BABY! I don’t wanna! I wanna be a GROWN-UP!”
Her former coworkers just laughed even harder, and her mother came up to her with a satisfied smile, then led her gently over to the large changing may laid out in the middle of the floor. “Come on, stinky pants,” she said gently, wrinkling her nose a little. “Time for a nappy change.”
Hannah didn’t have the energy to resist as her mother lowered her down onto the mat and started undoing the tapes of her loaded diaper. She was too busy sobbing. But even her crying couldn’t block out the sound of the laughs and ‘ewwws’ as her mother opened her nappy, lifted her legs into the air by her ankles, and started wiping her clean with a back of baby wipes.
“Oh hush, little one,” Mrs Whitehouse said, swatting her daughter’s bare bottom playfully while she sobbed and wailed. “You have to get used to your new life, sweetie, because it’ll be a long, long time before you get to go back to being an adult. No more business for you, baby. No more boys either. Just staying with Mummy and being a good little baby 24/7 for the next five years!”
Lying on her back with her legs in the air, in the middle of the first of many nappy changes, the businesswoman-turned-baby could only cry at the top of her lungs.
Comments
I was thinking of doing something like that - a 'five years later' epilogue.
Definitely want to see a look into her future
You should do a follow up at the end of her sentence where she doesn’t even want to go back or is so far regressed to go back.
