To celebrate her first year of HRT, Zoey decides to hit the clubs and party it up - and she can't resist the temptation to do so in diapers. Meanwhile, Dianne is on the lookout for someone to care for - And when they find each other, sparks fly.

This story contains exhibitionism, praise, public diaper use, and chastity.

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I wrote this story as part of a collaboration with three other wonderful creators - Ko, HofBondage, and FlashyFlesh! Once their respective sections are uploaded, I'll be posting to my social medias with links!

Ko created the original story concept and a lot of the outlining, and also wrote the other half of this story, told from the Baby's perspective.

I wrote the section here - The PoV of the dominant, Dianne!

HofBondage and FlashyFlesh both did illustrations of several points in the story - They're so freakin' hot and wonderful, I can't wait to share them.

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Dianne didn’t believe in luck.

Everything in her life happened for a reason. The energy she put out into the world? It came right back to her. When life presented opportunities, she always did her best to take them while thanking life for the favor.

This philosophy had treated her well. Though she tried to remain humble, she’d had success in all her affairs, and that success bred confidence–as well as the ability to watch for further opportunity.

And tonight she certainly saw opportunity.

The club, “The Dream Mode”, wasn’t one she frequented often, but it could occasionally be a good spot for opportunity seeking, and she was friends with several people on the staff. The weekend DJ had been in her sorority, she’d seen the bartender at a few dungeon events, and many patrons were in Dianne’s sphere of friends, ranging from close colleagues to besties.

She’d felt the call to the bar that night and, trusting her instincts, sought out the place and ordered herself a little cocktail to enjoy while watching the dancers.

And, as she’d suspected, life had given her an opportunity tonight in the form of a precious young girl with more enthusiasm than sense.

Dianne noticed the girl as soon as she entered the bar, dressed up like a goth princess. Her clothes’ style screamed ‘You can’t tell me what to do’, but the color and her hair suggested a softer, cuter side, and the collar all but announced the antithesis–please tell me what to do.

Even so, Dianne didn’t make a move yet. She watched. There were other candidates that night, other possibilities that life may be pulling her towards.

As the girl began to dance, though, Dianne knew that this goth princess was the one she’d come for. As she jumped and spun and gyrated, the girl’s tripp skirt raised, showing off–to Dianne’s delight–the unmistakable outline of a diaper, and the unmistakable print of a Bunny Hop at that.

The girl was a Little, and that all but demanded Dianne’s intervention before she left the bar without a mistress to care for her.

She began their interaction with a subtle nod. A suggestion, of sorts, ordering the girl a drink. Without a name, Dianne decided to simply think of her as the Baby, until she learned otherwise.

And maybe, even after she learned otherwise, she’d still think of the Baby as such.

After receiving Dianne’s message, the Baby glanced back her way and smiled. She looked pleased and, perhaps, a little shy–but not so shy that she melted away and fled. Instead, she flounced past Dianne on her way back to the floor, wiggling her crinkling bottom as she passed.

It was as though the Baby wanted Dianne to notice, so it was just as well that Dianne had.

And if she was that confident in herself, Dianne really needed to provide for her a strong, guiding hand.

Stalking across the dance floor, Dianne approached the girl, who had begun dancing with reckless abandon, her eyes closed. Choosing a bold first encounter, she stepped in and looped a finger through the loop in the girl’s collar, pulling her a half step forward–not so forcefully that it’d hurt, just enough to jolt her.

Beaming with dominant energy, she sent her parting shot over. “Hello there, little girl. You sure are enjoying yourself tonight.”

“H-hello yourself,” the girl replied. Dianne’s heart leapt, this baby was adorable. Her attempt to sound confident rendered her down to a toddler, claiming she hadn’t gotten into the cookie jar without wiping the crumbs off her face.

Pulling her finger away, Dianne began to dance, reaching out to the baby’s hips and resting her hands on the poor girl’s diaper.

“Dance with me,” she said, not a request, a statement. She could call it, ‘Manifesting the world she wanted to see’, or she could just call it control, but the effect was the same. The baby nodded and obeyed, blushing brightly all the while.

Hands placed firmly over the baby’s diaper, with only a thin skirt between her and the crinkly padding, they danced. It wasn’t the right music for a slow dance with a lot of touching, but Dianne moved their bodies in a rhythm of her choosing, moving her hands up and down the baby, engaging in close contact.

She moved with an almost protective aura. She’d staked her claim on this little girl, and now they danced together, with Dianne warding off anyone who might come close in subtle ways, placing her body so that she was the baby’s whole world, her sole focus and the object of her attention.

When the time was right, in a lull between songs, Dianne moved behind the baby and wrapped her arm around the girl. She ran her hand up the girl’s thigh, finally pressing her palm into the front of the girl’s thick diapers. Leaning in to whisper in the baby’s ear, she stated, “Show me you’re a good little girl. Wet your diaper.” She didn’t say it in a condescending or mean way, but just as a statement–if the baby was good, her diaper would be wet.

The baby glanced back at her, anxious but pliable, biting her lip.

“What’s the matter? Did you not hear me?” Dianne asked, dropping her voice even lower. “Do I need to speak louder, sweetheart, so everyone can hear? Good girls wet their diapers.”

Shutting her eyes, the girl did what was only natural. She proved to Dianne that she was good, and obedient, and more than willing to obey. The warmth spread quickly as the baby followed instructions, flooding the padding thoroughly, urine wicking into the absorbent padding and making the diaper sag ever so slightly.

She’d stopped dancing. It was adorable. The baby was so focused on obeying, on being good, that she’d forgotten everything around her. To remind the girl of where she was, Dianne pressed her hand into the squelching diaper, giving it a squeeze. “Good girl, I knew you could do it,” she purred.

To Dianne’s delight, the girl squeaked in submission. Truly, the universe had given her a precious gift today, even if the baby tried to hide it and tamp down on any other little sounds.

“Tsk,” she warned, reaching down for the girl’s purse.

The girl resisted, but Dianne gave her a light swat to the thigh and she melted back into obedience. Going through the contents of the purse, she made a mental catalog–the baby had really come prepared.

“Enough pretending you’re big,” she stated, listing out what she saw as she came across it. “Miss Dianne wants to see what you have–powder, wipes, lotion, spare diapers. You’re a smart girl, right, you remembered to bring a change, and–ah, there it is.”

Before the baby could ask what she’d found, Dianne produced the baby’s pacifier and plopped it into the girl’s lips. She reached up, to cover the pacifier and remove it, but a firmer swat to her thigh and a dominant glance was enough to demolish the girl’s resistance.

“No no, sweetie, you keep that in. Nurse your paci, little girl, and Miss Dianne will take care of everything else.” To emphasize what ‘everything else’ meant, she gave the baby’s diaper another squeeze. “Don’t worry–nobody will know you’re a baby, they’ll just think you’re on molly.”

The girl nodded meekly. Putty in the hands of a strong woman, Dianne wanted to swaddle her up and protect her from the whims of the universe.

“Tell me your name,” she said.

“Zoey,” the girl mumbled, over her pacifier.

“Little Baby Zoey,” Dianne purred, letting the name float across her tongue. Running her fingers down the back of Zoey’s diaper, she decided to try something. This baby needed to be cared for, and Dianne had just the thing. “You flooded your diapers–we need to step aside to make sure you don’t leak.”

If Zoey even noticed the other dancers anymore, Dianne suspected it was only barely.

Moving her hand from the diaper to Zoey’s hand, Dianne walked off the stage and, as expected, felt no resistance. Baby Zoey followed with complete deference, off to a shady corner of the nightclub where no lights shone. It wouldn’t be private, but it’d be private enough.

Sliding the purse off Zoey’s shoulder, Dianne set it on the table by their side, turning the girl so that she faced the dance floor. “All you need to do is stand there and look pretty,” she promised.

The baby let out a squeak, the universal language version of, ‘I’m a helpless little girl,’ and Dianne proceeded with her plan.

“If you keep using your diaper–which a good little girl will do–you’re going to leak,” she explained, as her hands worked under Zoey’s skirt, feeling up her sodden diaper. With a sharp fingernail, she pierced the plastic shell of Zoey’s diaper, tearing a long slit from the front to the back. Zoey squeaked again, and Dianne whispered, “Shh, just hold still.”

Three more parallel slits into Zoey’s diaper created open channels, enough for fluids to easily drain. Now came the fun part, as she reached into Zoey’s purse–her diaper bag, really–and produced another diaper, unfolding it discreetly behind Zoey’s back.

In the dark corner, most onlookers would assume Dianne was just feeling her up, at least at a glance. Sure, there were some obvious tells that something more was going on, but Dianne was counting on the fact that, in a crowded nightclub, most eyes would be on the gyrating asses and dancing hotties on the floor, not the quietly meeping baby in the corner.

Sliding the diaper up beneath Zoey’s skirts, Dianne worked by sense of touch to wrap it around her waist. Zoey continued making little helpless squeaking sounds over her pacifier, but Dianne’s touch remained gentle as she smoothed out the crinkling plastic shell, pressing the diaper into Zoey, and smoothing out the tapes so that they stuck securely.

While she was doing so, she felt a bulge in the front of Zoey’s diaper. That settled one thing she’d been curious about, though she wouldn’t bring it up until Zoey did.

“Good girl,” she whispered from behind, into Zoey’s ear. “Now you don’t have to worry about leaks at all!”

Baby Zoey nodded meekly. Obediently. Such a good baby.

“You need to drink more water,” Dianne instructed. “Then come back to me. I want to dance again.”

Adorably, Zoe’s doubly-diapered waddle and choice of bottoms worked together to make her diaper poke out as she left, visible with every step beneath her flapping skirt. She was precious, with the sort of innocence that made Dianne’s heart melt.

While she was gone, Dianne steadied herself. She couldn’t get carried away, and wouldn’t push this girl too far. If the girl was that naive to how obvious her diaper was–and it really didn’t seem like she was choosing exhibitionism–then she truly needed a protector to shield that innocence.

Though, at the same time–the girl had chosen to come to a bar wearing a diaper, purely for her own gratification. She wasn’t that kind of innocent, and Dianne felt no compunctions about making Zoey helpless along that vector.

When Zoey returned, Dianne’s heart melted by another degree as she saw Zoey had brought back a sippy cup. Admittedly, it had lewd stickers and the bar logo printed on the side, and it probably came out for the Kandy Kid ravers fairly often, but in Zoey’s hands it just screamed, ‘I’m a little baby.’

“That’s cute,” she said, nodding at the cup with an amused smile. “The bartender could tell you’re still a little baby.”

Zoey responded by making a face, arguing her maturity in the most childish way possible. "Nuh uh, it was a joke an I…ummm…I though’ she knew…"

Dianne’s smile widened, though she wondered if Zoey’s slurring was a toddlerish aspect, or a sign that she’d had more than water in the past moment. “You should have a seat, little Zoey, and drink your water. Take care of your body. Okay?” Nodding to a box to the side, the sort of wide low rectangle that could be dragged out and used as a raised dancing or performing platform, she helped Zoey move to sit on it.

"Thanou… I shoudn…" The girl pulled out her pacifier, holding it in her hand as she confirmed Dianne’s suspicion. "I shouldn't have gotten more shots…you were right about the water. "

Heart swelling, Dianne’s instincts kicked in. This girl needed a Mommy, not just a Mommy Dom. “Zoey, that’s not what you were supposed to do. You want to be a good girl, and that’s not what good girls do. How is your head feeling?”

Zoey bit her lip, avoiding eye contact and staring at her lap. "It's fine, well… a little spinny, but not bad... and I do want I be a good girl, I was just being dumb and not thinking. I'm sorry Miss."

“You’re not dumb.” This girl… Dianne took a breath, resisting the urge to drag Zoey into a hug. “You just need a grown up to help take care of you. This is your first night out as a little girl, isn’t it?”

A little squeak escaped Zoey’s lips, and for a half second, Dianne worried she’d said something wrong. After catching herself, though, Zoey continued. "Well, I've been out padded before, but never to the club. Actually this is my first time at the club in over a year… I'm kind of here to celebrate something."

A few thoughts all rose to the surface in Dianne’s mind. Rather than speak her theory aloud, though, she put her hands on Zoey’s and let the baby explain for herself in her own time. “Oh? I’m afraid I don’t have a present for you, but I’m sure whatever the occasion is, it’s very special.”

"Honestly, all the fun and attention is far more than I could've asked for from anyone… that being said…" Zoey closed her eyes and took a breath, like she was about to jump of a cliff. "... the thing is… I'm a trans woman. I started HRT a year ago."

(This baby!) Dianne’s hands tightened over Zoey’s. “Oh, you sweet little thing. Thank you for telling me, but that doesn’t change anything to me.” Worried that she might be coming on too strong, too protective, she added a quip. “Then again, that explains why you’re such a baby–you’re only one!”

Zoey’s eyes watered, but she took the branch of humor and kept herself together. "Hmph! I'm four. I'm practically a big girl even." She stuck out her tongue, and Dianne was almost surprised that she didn’t add in a raspberry.

“Uh-huh.” Playing along, Dianne lifted the sippy cup, prodding the sipper in between Zoey’s lips “Well, birthday girl, I want you to have a nice time, but since you’re a little tipsy, we need to make sure you’re okay first, okay?”

Zoey nodded obediently. "Yes ma'am." When she spoke, the water she’d been sipping on dribbled down her chin, further reinforcing Dianne’s vision of her as all-but helpless. For some reason, the baby giggled, dribbling even more water, and a furtive glance downward suggested why.

Reaching down, Dianne gave the baby’s diaper another squeeze. “We’re going to sit here for a little while until your head stops spinning.” Zoey opened her mouth, but Dianne shook her head and pushed the sippy cup back between her lips. “Shh, just listen. I need you to listen, so you can be good.”

Zoey nodded.

Good girl. Dianne clasped Zoey’s hands tightly. “If I say you’re going to do something, and you don’t feel safe, you’re going to tell me. If I ask if you’re okay, you’re going to tell me. I can’t protect you if I don’t know how you’re feeling.”

Again, Zoey nodded, suckling intently on her water.

“If I ask, and you’re okay, you can just say, ‘Green’. Just that one word and I’ll know you’re okay.” Dianne waited for a nod before continuing. “If you’re uncertain, and want to talk, you say, ‘Yellow’. Swallow, then say it back to me.”

Zoey obeyed, swallowed her water, and said, “Yellow.”

“And if you say, ‘Red’, we stop immediately and get you safe and comfortable. Say it.”

“Red.” Zoey put her cup back, letting the water trickle into her mouth again.

“We don’t joke about safe words. I’m not going to do anything that’ll get you in trouble, but if you’re unsure, you’ll tell me immediately.” She was moving things too fast, and she knew it–but the universe had given her this precious baby to protect, and she wouldn’t let the moment pass her by.

“Now tell me, little Zoey, what’s your favorite song to dance to?”

The girl hesitated for a moment, and Dianne worried she’d gone too far, but it quickly became clear she’d just taken Zoey by surprise with the change of topics. Of course, Zoey couldn’t know what Dianne was thinking, so that shouldn’t have been a surprise.

After a moment of thought, Zoey said, "Um... Emo Girl? But not MJK's version…” Smirking, she showed off a bit of the fiery passion and opinionated personality Dianne loved to see. “That isn't emo to me. Paige Six got it right."

Dianne grinned. "Okay, now you need someone to check your diaper for me while I go request your song–you’re probably close to needing a change, right?" Glancing around, she spotted another acquaintance, someone she knew was kink friendly and up for anything. Gesturing with her head, she suggested, “What about him?”

Zoey shook her head. "Y-yellow…"

Swallowing, Dianne tried not to berate herself. She’d already gone and pushed Zoey too far, and it had been luck that she’d used her safe words–no, Zoey was a smart girl. It wasn’t luck, she just knew how to assert her boundaries. "Is it a problem with him, or with someone checking your diaper?"

Zoey shook her head, briefly uncommunicative, but her eyes told the story. She glanced to the bartender, Amy, and Dianne knew what she wanted from that look.

"Oh, would you like the nice lady who gave you your sippy cup to do it? It would be very brave of you to go and ask her.” She smiled, reassuringly. Amy was just as reliable, maybe even moreso, and if it was what made Zoey comfortable it was the perfect choice. Zoey smiled, and Dianne helped her up, smirking at the girl’s pronounced waddle from the thick, sodden diapers that her skirt failed to hide. Giving Zoey a pat and a squeeze on her padding, she added, “You should thank her for the sippy cup, as well.”

While Zoey went to get checked, Dianne made her way through the crowd over to the DJ. Throwing up a wave with her thumb and pinkie extended in a waggle, she greeted her. “Hey, Mels! How’ve you been?”

With an earphone pressed against one ear, Mels responded with a thumbs up, bobbing her head and keeping the music going. She’d always been more of a doer than a talker.

“Can you take a request for me, as a favor? Emo Girl by Paige Six!”

Another thumbs up and a nod, and Mels returned to her DJ work. Grinning, Dianne found her way back to Zoey, meeting her by the dancing platform they’d been standing by. Zoey returned a moment later, with a full sippy cup and an adorable blush.

“What did the nice lady say?” Dianne asked.

“That…I could last a little longer,” Zoey replied, raising her cup to take a sip.

“We should fix that,” Dianne suggested. “But first, I want you to show me what a good dancer you are, okay?”

Zoey hesitated, and again, Dianne wondered if she’d gone too fast with her. Before she could retract her suggestion, though, Zoey nodded. “Okay.”

“Where’s your pacifier?” Dianne asked. Zoey retrieved it from her purse, and Dianne plopped it between her lips. Then, she bent slightly, pulling on the handle of the raised dance platform. It wasn’t that heavy, and she could drag it easily towards the center of the dance floor.

She hadn’t, strictly, gotten permission to use it, but confidence was the only ticket she needed. They weren’t forbidden or anything, and everyone was already dancing–what difference would it make if Zoey was dancing a little higher, for everyone to see?

“Just be good for me,” Dianne said. “I want to watch you dance, okay?”

Zoey nodded again, as Dianne got the platform far enough out that people were stepping aside to let her through. Taking Zoey’s hand, she squeezed it reassuringly, helping the tipsy baby up just as a few opening chords started to play.

The music began: “She’s got studded belts–” and Zoey’s face lit up with excitement. Needing no further encouragement, she began to dance.

The girl lit up the room, and not just because a spotlight whirled to point at her. Her smile was infectious, her enthusiasm infinite, and when she danced, twirling so that her skirt spun, it filled Dianne with pure joy.

It didn’t matter that Zoey’s diaper was acutely visible, between her raised platform, her skirt spinning high, and the severe puff and sag of the diaper. Most people in the bar were kink friendly, and even those who weren’t just didn’t care. It was impossible to look at Zoey, dancing her heart out and smiling the biggest, most exuberant smile in the world, and care what was sagging under that skirt.

As the song reached its final chorus, Zoey looked down at Dianne, hesitant, looking for something. Dianne knew what, and she gave her permission.

She mouthed the word: ‘Push.’

Zoey glanced past her, eyeing something. Dianne glanced back, and saw it was a mirror; Zoey was watching herself as she obeyed. The little girl bent her knees slightly, still wiggling her butt in time with the music, but soon even that motion was lost as she turned her attention to being a good girl.

She bit down on her pacifier, held her breath, and Dianne’s heart melted. This girl was simply too precious for this world, too adorable. Even though the mess could only be inferred; Zoey’s diaper was already so thick and sagging that there wasn’t much in the way of a visible bulge, it was clear what she was doing by her face and her pose, and by the subtle crinkle as she bottomed out her diapers.

Gaze darting around for reassurance, Zoey caught Dianne’s eyes, breathing rapidly. The last notes of the song were running out, and Dianne beamed at her, reaching up to help her down.

Even with Dianne’s hand, Zoey still stumbled, falling onto a seated position on the platform. She gasped and turned pink as she fell onto the weight of her packed diaper, and Dianne finally got a whiff of what she’d done. Wrinkling her nose ever so slightly, Dianne pulled her into a hug and helped Zoey away from the center of the dance floor, while someone else climbed up to take their turn as the center of attention.

“Shh,” she whispered into Zoey’s ear. “You’re such a good girl. You were wonderful up there, the most adorable little thing I’ve ever seen, and the best little baby anyone could ask for.” Reaching down, she slipped a hand under Zoey’s skirt, squeezing the seat of her diaper ever so slightly.

Zoey looked down, avoiding Dianne’s gaze, so Dianne touched her chin and moved her head up until they locked eyes again. Zoey’s expression was huge and helpless, little and in dire need of reassurance…and maybe something more.

“Your diaper is ready for a change,” Dianne said. “There’s a bathroom in the corner with a lock. Would you like me to change you?”

Zoey squeaked out a little, “Yes, please,” over her pacifier, though her focus was less on the words and more on Dianne’s face.

Smiling warmly, Dianne said, “There’s my stinky little girl. Let’s go.”

Leading Zoey by the hand, Dianne pulled her to the restroom. A unisex sign on the door indicated it was for general use, though in practice Dianne thought it was used as a private room for sex as often as it was for its intended purpose–certainly, Zoey wouldn’t be using the toilet any time soon.

Pulling her inside, Dianne locked the door. Reaching down, she took Zoey’s skirt, kneeling so she could pull it all the way down off the baby’s body, revealing her sagging, smelly diaper.

Kneeling in front of Zoey, Dianne looked up at her. “You really ruined your diaper, baby,” she commented. “Just like you’re supposed to.”

As Zoey squeaked in response, Dianne stood, took her hands, and gently forced her back towards the toilet. It was a cheap, old thing, with exposed copper pipes that ran halfway up the wall. Definitely a retrofit, and little effort had been made for aesthetics. Dianne pushed Zoey down onto the toilet seat, forcing the baby’s weight into her loaded diaper, then pulled her hands up to the pipes.

Twisting the skirt into a rope, Dianne wrapped it around the pipes and around Zoey’s wrists, tying a secure knot. It was by no means perfect, but it didn’t cut off circulation, and it’d keep her hands there so long as she didn’t try to wriggle free, and good girls wouldn’t try to wriggle free.

Once she was restrained, Dianne reached down, rubbing against the front of Zoey’s diaper. She could feel how hard the girl was, and Zoey wriggled on the toilet seat to truly experience how full her diaper had become.

Hesitating, Dianne took a risk. “Show mommy how much you love your smelly diapers, okay?”

She didn’t want to go too far, but calling herself ‘Mommy’ just felt right. Zoey seemed to agree with the label, because she didn’t object, she simply thrusted into Dianne’s hand, moaning into her pacifier as she tried to get every ounce of sensation through her layers of sodden, decimated diaper.

After a moment, Dianne pulled her hand away. She didn’t want Zoey’s fun to end just yet. Instead, she reached up, unbuttoning her blouse till it hung loose over her chest. Reaching down, she took Zoey’s pacifier out of her lips, moved to sit on Zoey’s lap so that her breasts were at Zoey’s eye level, and pulled herself free of her bra.

She didn’t need to say anything. Zoey’s mouth moved instinctively to Dianne’s nipple, and she began to suckle, still wriggling and grinding as she did so.

It was Dianne’s turn to moan, and to reach down beneath her own pants, slipping fingers to fondle herself while adorable, helpless, smelly little Zoey gasped and suckled her tits. Dianne barely needed to do anything for herself, simply being over Zoey in this situation brought her nearly to the edge, and she showed little restraint as she brought herself to climax.

“Yes,” she moaned, as Zoey sucked hard on her breasts. “Exactly like that, baby, just–yes–”

It was Dianne’s turn to make herself wet, though not as thoroughly as Zoey had. Squirting into her panties, it just barely soaked through to her jeans, not enough to be particularly noticeable unless someone was looking for it. Zoey continued to wriggle in helpless frustration, trying and failing to get enough sensation to achieve her own climax.

Dianne took a breath for a moment, then pulled away. “Zoey, I want you to wait here,” she said. “Don’t spit out your pacifier, and don’t untie your hands. If you do, I’ll know.”

Zoey looked up at her, eyes huge, pleading, as though to ask, ‘Why don’t I get to cum?’, but Dianne only smiled coyly.

“Trust me,” she said. “I’ll only be gone a minute. Safe words?”

Zoey mumbled, “Green,” over her pacifier, and Zoey bent over to kiss her on the forehead. Then she stood up straight, waved, and left the bathroom, flipping over the ‘out of order’ sign on the door to discourage anyone from stepping in.

Of course, there wasn’t anything stopping anyone from opening the door, and that was a bit of the fun. In the few minutes while Dianne was gone, anyone could wander in and find Zoey stuck, right over the toilet, in her filthy diaper.

She was only gone for a minute. There was a sex shop two doors down and open late, and she acquired what she needed with little hassle. She got back, made her way across the bar floor and pushed open the door to the bathroom.

After being gone for several minutes, the shock of the smell hit her hard as she stepped in, partly because it contrasted with the fresh air outside, partly because Zoey had been given time to stew and really stink up the room.

Zoey was wriggling on the toilet seat, smushing into her diaper and whimpering when Dianne walked in. Spotting her, she mumbled through her pacifier, “Mommy?”

“Mhmm,” Dianne said. “Let’s get your diaper changed, little girl.”

“But–” Zoey started, but Dianne shook her head.

“No buts, except yours, in a fresh diaper,” Dianne said, setting down her shopping bag and crossing to begin cleaning up Zoey.

It was a bit tricky, doing it while Zoey stayed seated and tied up, but Dianne made it work. Undoing the tapes, she pinched her nose and made a face, mostly for show. “You really did a number on your diaper,” she commented, producing baby wipes from Zoey’s purse and slowly, methodically, began to clean the girl up.

Zoey continued to squirm, but over time, the cold wipes began to combat her erection, and her princess parts grew smaller and more pliable.

Exactly what Dianne wanted.

Reaching into her purse, she produced her purchase–a stainless steel chastity cage. She made sure Zoey could see it, and waited for a moment to give her a chance to use a safe word. When Zoey didn’t respond, Dianne opened up the cage, and began fitting it around her parts.

“This is my good little girl insurance,” Dianne explained, sliding the cage into place. “I want you to wear your diapers and use them like a good baby all week, and if you do, I’ll unlock you and let you cum. Okay?”

Zoey nodded enthusiastically, eyes huge and excited.

“You’ll get my permission before every change, okay?” Dianne asked, as she slid the locking mechanism into place. Zoey nodded again, and with a little click, she locked the cage on. Reaching for a fresh diaper from Zoey’s purse, she added, “And I don’t want you to even think about using the potty. You’re a baby, you’re supposed to use your diapers. Okay?” She made sure to emphasize that she was asking–some things still required more than a statement of fact.

“O…okay, mommy,” Zoey nodded.

Zoey had brought along powder as well, so Dianne applied a thin layer before wrapping up the fresh diaper and taping it into place. “Good girl.” Reaching down, she wadded up Zoey’s old diaper so that nothing could smush out, then moved it into Zoey’s purse. “I don’t want to make the staff here deal with your stinky accidents, so this goes in your diaper bag.”

That didn’t need an ‘Okay?’ at the end. Zoey would be good on that account.

Zoey nodded again, squirming in her fresh diaper.

Reaching up, Dianne finally untied Zoey’s skirt from around the pipe, freeing her hands. “Let’s take you home, baby girl. Did you have a nice time?”

“Mhmm,” Zoey said. “Thanks, Mommy.”

Dianne’s heart swelled.

Fate had truly given her a gift tonight.