Escalation

I opened the door, and stood there. He looked me up and down, and grinned. Clearly he liked my short skirt, a Japanese school type design, or perhaps it was my t-shirt, the low scooped neck revealing just a little cleavage. Maybe it was the picture on it, a happy looking girl dressed very similarly but with a diaper peeking out from her skirt, or possibly the writing below that. “Daddy’s Girl.”

“Cute,” he said, his grin widening.

“No,” I said, “This is cute.”

I lifted the hem of my skirt, showed him the thick disposable diaper I was wearing underneath. His eyebrows raised, and his smile broadened.

“Kinky.”

“No,” I said, “This is kinky.”

I held my skirt clear of the diaper and let him see it start to discolour as I relieved the pressure on my bladder. I didn’t need to force it, and he watched in rapt fascination as visible dampness rose up the inside of the waterproof covering for over half a minute.

“That’s just perverted,” he said, wonder in his voice.

“No,” I said, “This is perverted.”

I swivelled around, letting my skirt drop down to my thighs, hiding the wetness in my diaper. Instead I lifted it at the back, and let him watch as it started to swell from within. I twisted my shoulders, turned my head to watch him watching me. His face was a picture, but he didn’t move, didn’t stop watching.

“That’s disgusting,” he said.

“No,” I said, “This is disgusting.”

I dropped the hem of my skirt and instead pulled at its waistband. My fingers hooked in behind that, and into the back of my diaper. I pulled them both away from my skin. The smell was immediately obvious; I was glad he couldn’t see my reaction to it, and didn’t doubt his was at least as bad. The groan I heard from him certainly suggested that.

“That’s just abusive,” he told me.

“No,” I said, “This is abusive.”

I nodded to the three men that had walked up behind him while I was distracting him. They grabbed him from behind, two of them pinning him to the ground while the third cut off his clothing, the knife scaring him into submission. They quickly dressed him again, larger versions of my skirt and top, the picture and words on his still showing Daddy’s Girl.

When one of them used a hand to push his penis down between his legs as they brought the front of a thick diaper up and over it, he finally spoke again.

More of a scream.

“This is rape!”

“No,” I said, in amazement that he hadn’t already learned. I winked at the men holding him down, and closed my door.

As the screaming suddenly became muffled I waddled away from the door. All I’d wanted was an apology, and now I needed a change instead. As I got everything ready I thought to prepare a second clean diaper too. He’d be needing that, afterwards, and many more. Until I got my apology at least, but maybe the guys would like their new toy, want to keep him.

He might even like it. I did, even when I had to be patient. I sat down and wriggled in my soiled diaper, waited for them to finish, to come and change me.