“I’m not incontinent!” she protested, even as the soaking diaper was stripped from her.

“No?” he asked, “You’re doing this on purpose?”

She started to deny it but stopped almost immediately, softly bit at her top lip, thought about it. She did have control, didn’t have to use the diapers if they weren’t fastened to her, if she could remove them. But after two months she’d stopped trying to hold it, had just accepted that she would have to use them, lazily let it happen.

He saw the look on her face, smiled, twisted the knife further. “See. If you really didn’t want to wear diapers you’d have control.”

She looked at him fearfully, the gaslighting working, making her question herself. Maybe this was what she wanted, a life in diapers, cared for and reliant on others.

Not that it mattered. She was in a fresh diaper now, clean and smelling of baby powder. It wouldn’t last, whether she tried to hold it or not. So why bother…