Monday, 6 April 2015

10 - Bigger Girl (Picture Story)

Apologies for the lack of updates. I have a lot of stuff half finished (this has been lying around for two weeks in need of a proof read, I have another one that's stagnated at 8k words that's been around since the end of February, another one at 3k words that's almost as old...), but I haven't found the time or motivation to finish them off. I haven't forgotten about this blog, there's more to come!

Amber knew she should be happy. She knew she should be ecstatic. How long had it been since that fateful 3am incident when her mum had finally decided she'd had enough? How long had it been since she'd been informed that she was abusing the freedom her gap year afforded her, and that coming home at 3am blind drunk wasn't going to be tolerated any longer? How long had it been since she had stood over the puddle she'd made in the doorway, too intoxicated to even realise she'd pissed herself, even as her mother screamed at her for doing exactly that?

How long since the morning after that, when she'd been given her ultimatum - agree to her mother's new living conditions, or find somewhere else to crash at night?

She honestly didn't know. She hadn't been allowed access to her phone or computer or anything since that day, and because her mum did have access to her own ones, there wasn't exactly the need to hang a calendar on the wall. It felt like months, but time was funny when all you had to entertain yourself were toys designed for a toddler. It was surely much less than that. A month at the most.

She knew should be thrilled that it was all coming to an end...and yet, somehow, Amber felt no joy standing in front of her mother like this. She was wearing a ridiculous dress, tights, and under it all, a comically over-sized diaper. She could be excited when it was done with and she had returned to the World of Adults. Until then, she was still a toddler for all intents and purposes, and that was about as depressing as depressing got. She tried to smile at her mother, but it was an exercise in futility. She wasn't in the mood to smile.

"Lift your skirt for me," the root of all evil in the world finally commanded after the unavoidable awkward moment of silence that followed all scenarios which highlighted Amber's babified state. There was a faint hitch in her voice, as if she was restraining an epic gale of laughter, and the smirk smeared across her mother;s face did little to dissuade that interpretation. It was something Amber was quite used to at this point, and after at-least-a-month of this type of degrading treatment, Amber was beyond protest. Perfectly used to embarrassing herself the moment her mother commanded, she wordlessly lifted the front of her skirt, exposing the heart of her humiliation to anyone that cared to look through her bedroom window at that precise moment.

She couldn't even bring herself to blush anymore. She was all out of blushes.

With a satisfied grin, her mother knelt down in response, and without waiting for permission calmly peeled Amber's tights down to around her knees. A moment later, her fingers were probing the leg openings of the diaper, and then they were inside, wriggling like perverted worms against her daughter's most private of places. In the early days, this treatment had garnered epic amounts of protest, but sooner or later, it had become the done thing, and now all Amber could bring herself to do was look away and pretend she was just about anywhere else. Sometimes she was on a sunburnt Hawaiian beach. Sometimes she was shopping in some fantastical mall where everything she had ever desired was on sale. More often than that, she was nowhere, simply ignoring any and all external stimulus as she blocked out the world for as long as necessary.

Diaper checks were her life. Privacy was a thing of the past.

"You're dry!" came the approving exclamation from down around her crotch, earning a dramatic eye roll from up above. Of course she was dry. They had agreed that if she behaved all week (which she had), she could re-negotiate her living conditions on the Saturday morning. She wasn't going into the re-negotiation in a wet diaper. "Good girl!"

Her mother was nodding approvingly to herself as she proceeded to remove Amber's shoes and tights, causing the diapered girl to obediently lift one leg and then the next as was required. "You know," her tormentor began as she did so. "You've been good all week, actually. I don't think you've complained even once, even when we had to change you out of your messy diapers. Remember how much you complained when we had to change your first one? I think the neighbours heard you crying."

That elicited a dramatic cringe, even as Amber found herself nodding reluctantly. She could live with the wet diapers, but the messy ones were horrifying and always would be. She didn't want to be reminded that she'd had to suffer through a number of those.

She stood there holding her skirt up as her mother clambered to her feet, knees popping audibly as she did so, and made her way over to the drawers on the far side of the room. "I'm proud of you, honey!" she went on, calling over her shoulder as she began to rummage through their contents. "You've been really mature about everything. Are you ready for your big girl panties?"

Faintly irritated that her return to adulthood was going to be laced with childish terminology, Amber chirped out an agreeable "Yes mummy!" in spite of herself.

"Good," was the amused response. "You're not the only fed up with dirty diapers."

" we go!"

She turned around, a sickly sweet smile on her face, and for a moment Amber allowed herself a twinge of excitement. This was it! The end of what was, really, her imprisonment. The end of wearing and using diapers like a helpless infant. The end of her childish wardrobe. The end of 7pm bedtimes. The end of restricted TV viewing. The return of her place in the world as an adult - all nineteen years of it!

But her mother wasn't holding a pair of panties up for her to see.

"I...but...pull-ups?" Amber spluttered, flabbergasted.

Her mother laughed cheerfully, apparently oblivious to the protest in her daughter's exclamation. "We never said you were ready to be nineteen again," she said happily, ignoring the dawning horror on Amber's face. She stretched the hideous pink thing with the pony between her hands, admiring it as if it were God's gift to man. Amber did so too and suddenly found herself fighting the urge to vomit. That was the replacement for her diapers? She was going to be wearing that?! "We said you could grow up, but we never specified how much. What's next after diapers, my dear? Is it those disgusting...things you used to wear? The ones that leave everything open for the world to see?"

She wasn't gracing that with an answer. " lied to me." 

Her mother shrugged. "Just a little," she said disinterestedly. "Really though, Amber, it's only been three weeks. You've come leaps and bounds since we decided you could benefit from a re-raising, but at the end of the day, it's only three weeks. You're still not perfect - remember how you swore, just two or three days ago, when you got shampoo in your eyes during bath time? No one should ever use words as filthy as those - so we're going to stagger your growing up. We'll see how you go with pull-ups; if you continue to improve, then you can wear real underwear again. If you don't..."

She looked pointedly at the diaper around Amber's waist, still peeking out from beneath the ruffles of her skirt. "We can try from the start again."

All Amber could do was stare in disbelief. Her tongue had run away with her hopes of wearing real underwear again.

She had been so ready to ditch all this bullshit. So, so ready.

"Up to you," her mother went on unhelpfully. She looked truly unphased by the fact she was extending her daughter's torture. "You're always free to leave, remember. You never had to do any of this."

But she wasn't free to leave. Not really. She was nineteen, and without a job she was financially dependant on this witch she called her mother. Where else would she go? She wasn't exactly close enough with anyone to crash at their place till she got a full time job.

She tried one more time. "But...mum, please, can we - "

"No." She was cut off before she could finish. Gone was the humour at her daughter's expense - her mother was all business, suddenly as stern as stone. "I've had enough of being woken up at 5am by you stumbling your drunken ass through my door. Of the constant rudeness, the constant disrespect, the constant everything. The piss-poor grades. The weed. I'm done, Amber. You're playing by my rules, or you're out of my house. Got it?"

Amber hesitated.

Her mother looked on expectantly.

What choice did she have?

"Okay." The miserable submission came out so softly she barely heard it herself. Her throat had decided to close up at that exact moment.

"What was that?"

"Okay, okay," she exclaimed much louder, forcing the hated words out like they were on fire. She could feel tears stinging her eyes, but she refused to give her mum the pleasure. She got enough pleasure from this as it was. She darted forward and snatched the damning underwear from her mother's hands, doing her best not to look at it as she did so. It was so, so pink it made her eyes want to bleed. Sure, it was an improvement...but how much was that saying, wearing what she was right now?

And at the end of the day, it just wasn't underwear for a nineteen year old.

Apparently her mother wasn't done yet, though.

"No," her mum said with a sigh, and before she could protest, the garment had been snatched right back out of her hands. "For one, good girls don't snatch, and for're a bigger girl now. Not a big girl. Big girls dress themselves. Bigger girls don't. Got it?"

Wordlessly, Amber nodded hesitantly. Still not a big girl, still couldn't dress herself. Fantastic.

"Right. Now, let's get you out of your diaper and onto the potty, hmmmm? We dont want you to have an accident the moment we dress you up in your big - I'm sorry, bigger - girl undies."

She nodded again, averting her eyes and instead examining her bedsheets.

"What was that?"

She realised her mistake instantly, and it was the final straw. At last, the dam broke, and no matter how hard she tried, tears began to leak down her cheeks. "Yes mummy," she whispered miserably, trying not to notice the catch in her voice and failing terribly.

Her mother nodded approvingly and knelt down again before her daughter. A moment later, there was a loud ripping sound, and before Amber could comprehend what was going she was naked from the waist down, her lady parts only inches from her mother's face.

Which, when you got down to it, wasn't exactly anything new.

"Good girl. Let's go."

All she could do was fail to stop crying as she nodded weakly and made her way to the bathroom, her mother a step behind and her dreams of returning to adulthood crumbling around her.

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