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Nearly a week passed since that day, and despite my best efforts, I was completely unable to get Diana out of my mind. Each day I shamefully humped my micropenis into a wet diaper while thinking about her unobtainable pussy or fucked my ass with a dildo wishing it was her giant lady cock. Usually both at the same time.
Even more alarming was the fact that these fantasies drifted more and more into themes of humiliation and domination. I had dreaded the idea of showing my true, effeminately babyish self to mainstream society for my entire life. However, over the next few days I slowly began to recognize that on some level, I had enjoyed Diana mistaking me for a female toddler and seeing me helplessly flood my diaper as would be expected of such. I tried to deny it at first, but it eventually became clear that I wanted some variation of that scenario to happen again. Somehow with her, it was different.
I of course talked to my therapist about this and she reminded me that I'd had fantasies about femdom and sissification before. A natural reaction, she theorized, for someone in my unique condition. "People often fetishize their insecurities," she'd said. "It could be a way for your mind to rationalize your situation and come to grips with your insecurities, turning a source of shame into pleasure." She also encouraged me to explore them as long as I felt it was safe to do so. So far I'd only ever done so on the internet, mostly through ABDL sissy fiction, and had never acted on it in real life. Mostly because the urge had never been so... intense.
Thankfully, I had other important matters to distract myself with while I grappled with this confusing issue. A lifetime of seclusion had taught me to excel at various academic topics. My mom had homeschooled me from a young age when it became painfully apparent that a diapered little wimplet like me wasn't going to survive mainstream society. As an adult, I'd been highly motivated to succeed so that I could eventually live an independent life with minimal contact from the outside world. I graduated with several degrees from an online college, including business and finance. Life had screwed me over in almost every conceivable way, but it had blessed me with intelligence.
Due to a substantial amount of family inheritance, I was able to make several smart investments that resulted in acquiring a mostly passive revenue stream. All I do to maintain a comfortable life was attend several web meetings a week remotely (using an AI filter for my voice and face, of course), advise on some financial matters, and continue making some investments. The rest of the time I spent with typical nerd activities like watching anime, games, books, or more studying.
Other than that, the rest of the week passed rather uneventfully. No one else came to my door aside from delivery people, and I was starting believe Diana actually hadn't told anyone about my accident, as strange as that was to believe. By Friday, the whole affair was starting to feel like a bad dream.
That's when I found the letter. An envelope had been pushed through my mail slot. The front read, in elegant, feminine script: To Eve. From Diana.
My heart sank. Shit, what was this? The blackmail letter I had been expecting? I wondered if Diana had recorded the whole thing or snapped pictures somehow. It wouldn't be the first time.
As much as I didn't want to open the letter, I knew I had to find out what I was dealing with.
Dear Eve,
I've been replaying the events of last Sunday through my head. You have to understand how the situation seemed to me. That said, I'm sorry for the embarrassment I've caused you. I'll understand if you don't want to see me ever again.
That said, you seem like a lonely person. It must be hard for you to make friends with the lifestyle that you have. You might be surprised to learn that I have a great deal experience with people who are in what I suspect may be your situation.
I don't mean to pry, but if you'd ever like to talk about it, or even just chat in general, I'm here for you.
I just moved in across the street from you. But if you'd rather chat over the phone, my number is enclosed.
-Diana
It took my mind several moments to process this information. I reread the letter twice.
Wow. That had not been the reaction I was expecting. It seemed there was actually some kind of chance that Diana was sympathetic to my bizarre situation, and that possibility instantly made me want to confide my secrets in her. Secrets I'd told no one else for years. Plus, the thought of in-person human contact actually sounded really appealing right now. Perhaps that was a sign of how desperate I really was.
"Be careful, Yves," I told myself. I'd been burned like this before. Plenty of people feigned sympathy, only to reveal darker intentions later on. Something seemed different about Diana, though. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I was somehow sure that she didn't have any negative intentions. If anything, she seemed warm and welcoming in a motherly sort of way, though with a harsher edge buried somewhere within.
Moreover, something about her excited me in a way I couldn't explain, as evidenced by the fact I'd felt compelled to repeatedly make useless stickies in my diaper to the memory of humiliating myself in front of her.
Maybe it was just Diana's hot body and confident, dominant energy? I was a textbook submissive if there ever was one, after all. And there had been something so inviting, so soft about her warm tone and concerned, yet condescending look. Normally I was very intimidated by women, even little girls less than half my age, and had always struggled to control my bladder in their presence. Diana certainly intimidated me as well, but something also told me she wanted to protect me.
"This is probably a stupid idea," I mumbled aloud as I dialed up her number.
It rang several times, and each time I thought about hanging up. Before I could make up my mind, a strong female voice answered. "This is Goddess Diana."
I practically fell over. Mistress? Really? Was this woman a dominatrix? That explained a lot of things.
A trickle of frightened pee escaped into my thirsty diaper. "Eep!" I girlishly yelped in surprise.
"Who's this? Another prank caller?" Diana demanded sternly.
"I-I, um... n-no Goddess," I said, my voice low and submissive without even thinking about it. I'd been too intimidated just by hearing her voice to avoid using what my subconscious had assumed was her title.
"Don't make me ask again," Diana threatened. "Or I'll warm your bottom to a deep red."
"Yves!" I gasped. "It's... um... Yves..."
There was a tense beat of silence.
"Oh my! Yves!" Diana hastily explained, dropping the commanding tone and slipping right back into her warm and motherly one. The duality of it made my heart race for some reason. "Once again, I'm so sorry. Only now do I realize I gave you my professional number by mistake."
"It's ok," I said. Putting a hand to the front of my diaper to check for wetness. I was peeing slightly during this conversation, but the floodgates hadn't opened yet. My diaper front had yellowed and began to bulge slightly.
"No, that's not," Diana said. "The last person who needs to hear me go into Domme mode is probably you right now." Her tone changed to a sly, sultry one. "Unless of course, you liked that?"
I did. Very much so. But I wasn't exactly about to admit that to her.
"I... um..."
"Just teasing, Yves," Diana clarified, and I breathed an audible sigh of relief. "Anyway, if you're calling this number, I suppose that means you'd like to accept my offer to chat?"
I bit my lip. "Yes," I clarified.
"Wonderful," Diana said, and I thought I detected a hint of a satisfied smirk on the other end. Like a lioness taking pride in luring her prey. Or maybe it was just my hopeful imagination. "I don't have much time to chat on the phone right now, perhaps later this evening. Are you comfortable coming to my place? Or would you rather talk on the phone?"
I desperately wanted to see Diana in the flesh again. And, strangely, the thought of her seeing me diapered didn't seem so terrifying anymore. Still a bit taboo, of course, but that only lent it an air of excitement.
"Why don't you come over to my place?" I offered without thinking.
A pause. Then, "Are you sure, Yves?"
No.
"Yes."
"I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable."
"I'm a little apprehensive," I confessed. "But I want to... explain what you saw. And it might be easier this way." I didn't add that another reason I wanted to meet in person was in case she was recording these calls.
"If you're sure, then lets do it. I'll see you at 6 PM?"
"Sounds good."
"Perfect. Have a great day, sweetie."
Click.
I slowly set the phone down with a trembling hand. Sweetie? Usually I found words like that condescending. I'm mentally and chronologically an adult, after all, even if I am unusually servile and terrified of people who can beat me up, which includes just about everyone. But this time it made my heart flutter slightly. It still felt condescending, but like, in a good way? If that made any sense, which it didn't.
I paced nervously back and forth. It was 3:45. I had almost two hours to kill until Mistress Diana got here.
Diana. Just Diana. Shit, I scolded myself.
I was a nervous wreck so I started distracting myself by meticulously cleaning the house in preparation for my guest's arrival. It was already rather clean, since I was normally quite domestically dutiful. But I really wanted to impress Diana, so I made sure the house was spotless. This didn't take too long and left me sometime to ponder what sorts of accommodations I could make.
There wasn't a lot of solid food in the house, nor many liquids aside from bottles of milk. But I did have a tea set and a lovely assortment of homemade cookies (my guilty pleasure), so I spent some time fishing those items out of cabinets where they'd been forgotten, as I'd never expected to have guests over.
Before I knew it, the doorbell rang, sending a slight jolt through my body. I was about to call out when I remembered I hadn't changed my diaper yet. Not trusting my internal sense of diaper wetness due to how used to it I was, I put a hand on the front. It was damp and squishy, but not overly so. I'd peed a few times since the phone call and the diaper was sagging more noticeably now. I would need another change soon.
I could go grab a pair of plastic panties from my wardrobe, but most of those were very frilly and wouldn't look good with the T-shirt I was wearing, which happened to be the same exact one as last time. Plus, I'd have to make Diana wait.
Eventually I decided not to get the panties. She'd already seen in a totally saturated diaper once, so what was the point of hiding a small wet spot?
"The door's unlocked," I nervously called back. "Come on in. I'm in the living room, to the left."
Diana strode confidently into the room to find me sitting across from her, nervously fidgeting with my hands to stop myself from cringing in embarrassment. For a brief moment, I thought about covering my diaper, only to realize how utterly useless the effort would be. Such a bulky garment was impossible to hide.
"There you are, Yves. It's good to see you again," Diana said with a warm, motherly smile.
"You too, G-" I said softly, catching myself before I said 'mistress'. "Miss Diana."
Diana studied me for a moment. Her eyes went straight to my bulging diaper and its obviously wettened state. My cheeks painted themselves red in embarrassment, and I looked down at the floor in shame. "Looks like you might need a change, sweetie."
I shook my head. "It's f-fine. I'm sort of... u-used to wet diapers," I explained. "Plus, I go through them a lot, and they're expensive, so I try to use them as much as possible."
Diana nodded as if this made sense and was a totally normal thing to discuss. "Very well then. To return to your previous comment, I would have let you call me by just my first name, but Miss works just fine for now," she said, taking a seat opposite me. Somehow she made herself look like a queen sitting on her throne. "Would you like to be addressed any particular way?"
"Just Yves is fine," I said, shifting uncomfortably beneath her scrutiny. 'Mister' didn't feel right since I'm clearly not a real man. My tiny clitty stiffened slightly inside of my diaper as if to remind me of this fact. Not that I was worried about Diana seeing it or anything. Beneath all that heavy padding, it was if my shameful little dicklette didn't even exist at all.
"Um, would you like some tea?" I asked to distract myself from how sexy she was.
"Yes please," Diana replied.
I rose, diaper crinkling noisily as I daintily poured her a cup. She smiled and took it gratefully, taking an elegant sip as she lounged confidently. I offered her a cookie as well, which she also accepted.
"Not having any yourself?" Diana asked, cocking her head slightly after I sat down without pouring myself a cup.
"I sort of.. um..." I started, trying to figure out a way to explain this. "I usually only drink water and milk."
"I see," Diana said. "Any particular reason, if I may ask?"
I bit my lip nervously.
"I'm sorry, that was intrusive. You don't have to answer," Diana followed up.
"No, it's okay, I quickly answered. "I... M-my stomach isn't good at digesting anything other than milk, and I need to drink a lot of water because my kidneys struggle to absorb it properly."
As if on cue, my stomach rumbled loudly and painfully.
Diana mostly looked intrigued rather than disgusted at my childish admission. "If you're hungry, go right on ahead," she said. Then, to my skeptical look. "No really, please. It's your house."
I nodded and got up, waddling my way into the kitchen. I could feel Diana's gaze burning into my back the whole time, and did my best to walk normally, which was basically impossible in such a thick diaper. Still, I was practiced at it, and really only struggled when I was extremely wet.
A moment later I had returned with a pink baby bottle, nipple and all. Diana raised an eyebrow but didn't comment further. I sat back down, my diaper squelching slightly. Damn, I must have let out a little more pee without noticing.
Diana looked at me expectantly. She was waiting patiently for me to drink, which I gave in and did. It felt humiliating to suckle on a baby bottle in front of a fully grown woman. I mean, a normal guy my age would have probably been balls deep in such a gorgeous older hottie by now, but here I was, drinking mother's milk out of a baby bottle in a very obviously pissed-in pink diaper like an immature little girl.
My cheeks flushed even hotter as I set the bottle down. "This must all seem so... strange and childish to you," I said, stating the obvious.
Diana shook her head. "Yves, you might be quite surprised to know that I'm quite comfortable with things like this. There are many adults, that like the idea of being diapered and acting like a baby for a dominant mommy. Sometimes even guys like to pretend to be sissy babies. I'm sure you've heard of such things."
"I have," I confirmed. "Is that what you do?"
"Yes. I specialize in offering that service as a dominatrix, in fact."
Ok, so her strange comfortability with all of this was seeming a lot more normal, now. I breathed a sigh of relief then stopped myself. Oh no... was Diana here to dominate me? Make me one of her next clients or something? Was that even how it worked? And wait--why did that idea excite me so much?
"Is that why you wanted to me me again?"
Diana smirked. "Not unless you beg me," she teased.
Damn. This perfect woman had read me like an open book. Maybe she was really a literal goddess and had some kind of mind-reading power.
"But that's not what your situation is, right?" Diana continued. "I mean, it seems like you're not doing this as a fetish. Most people who are into don't do it 24/7 like you seem to, and certainly wouldn't risk being caught while answering the front door unless they had no choice." She sipped her tea. "You mentioned something about your stomach. Do you have a medical condition?"
I nodded, feeling more comfortable now that Diana was leading the conversation. "An extremely rare one. Basically, its an aging disorder. My internal organs are stuck in various stages of development and never fully matured. For example, my stomach and bladder are both about as weak as an infant's."
Diana looked genuinely surprised and concerned. I was afraid of what she was going to say next, so I just barreled on, quickly spilling all my secrets to fill the silence. The sooner I got the embarrassing truth out, the faster this torment ended.
"G-Growth wise, I'm stunted at about age 8 or 10. Except I'm even weaker than girls of that age due to some extreme muscle density problems. Also, my body can't process testosterone, only estrogen, so that's what it automatically turns into." I took a deep breath and continued. "So that's why I look like a girl."
Diana calmly absorbed this information, then reached out to put a hand on my knee. "I'm so sorry, Yves," she said, her eyes sparkling with warmth and kindness. I looked into them this time. "That must make your life very difficult."
I looked away after a few seconds and wiped a tear, sniffling. "You have no idea," I replied.
Diana frowned. She seemed genuinely heartbroken at seeing how upset I was, and that realization only made me want to cry more. She withdrew her hand and I took another swig of milk.
"If it makes you feel any better," Diana went on. "I only thought you were a little girl because of your size and the large diapers. But now that I've had more time to look at you, I think your actual figure is more like a young woman's. And a very pretty one at that."
"Really?" I asked, blushing.
Diana nodded. "And besides that, I think you're utterly adorable, Yves. Diaper and all."
My heart fluttered. No one had ever said such positive things like that about me. Usually, women said I was disgusting or something along those lines.
"I... um... thank you..." I squeaked.
"You're welcome," Diana said, smirking at the effect she was having on me.
I wrung my hands nervously, suddenly aware that the front of my diaper was growing even wetter and warmer. The ever expanding yellow discoloration was expanding too, and from the angle of Diana's gaze, I could tell that this detail wasn't escaping her notice.
My boi clit grew as hard as a rock and my asshole began to clench around the shaft filling up my rectum. I was instantly reminded about my recent masturbation habits and had to fight the urge to beg Diana for... I didn't know what.
"Anyway," I continued, trying desperately to fill the awkward silence with anything but the low hiss of pee being emptied into my diaper. "I order milk from a company that supplies real breast milk to mothers that can't lactate. They send it in bottles, pink because I accidentally signed up as a girl, but it's been years so I'm too embarrassed to tell them I'm a boy. Or an adult."
Diana nodded. "That makes sense. Go on."
"So between that, the extra water consumption, and my tiny bladder, I'm constantly wetting myself. I have barely any continence whatsoever. That's why I have to wear these huge diapers. I'm a heavy wetter."
I was panting from talking so quickly and breathlessly, so I looked away in shame, my eyes wet and my body shaking slightly from the intense feeling. Confessing all of this to a woman as regal and mature as Diana made it even more embarrassing than I had even imagined.
After a long silence, Diana said, "You know, Yves, there are a lot of guys who would probably be jealous of you."
I looked at her in utter disbelief. "Impossible!"
"No, it's very possible. You see, in some ways, you're like the perfect little sissy that so many fetishists aspire to be. At least in their fantasies," she explained. Then quickly corrected: "Er, not that I meant to call you a sissy, that is."
I shrugged. "It's fine, I guess. I mean, it's like I'm going to win any manliness competitions any time soon."
Diana chuckled at that, and to my surprise, I found myself sharing her mirth and smiling back. "I can see you have a good sense of humor about it," she commented. "That's impressive. I'm sure lots of people would be bitter in your situation."
"I just learned to accept it a long time ago," I replied. "After a while, I got used to all the babyish aspects of my life and sort of started embracing it as an aesthetic. I like cute and girly things. I like some adult things too, but it just feels weird to act like a real man when I'm clearly not one, you know?"
"Still," Diana said. "You don't have to let people call you a sissy if you don't want to."
I was genuinely shocked to hear those words, having never expected anyone to say something like that to me before. Once the shock wore off, I answered: "No, its ok. I kind of like that, actually. At least when you say it."
Diana's eyes widened. Shit. That had come off way more flirty than I'd intended.
"Does that mean you actually like the idea of being dominated and humiliated?"
"Um...." I sputtered.
Diana grinned wolfishly, letting me writhe in agony for what seemed like hours until she finally offered: "It's ok, Eve. I had you pegged as a sissy the moment I saw you flood your diaper earlier this week."
"B-b-but..." I protested weakly. "It's e-embarrassing..."
Diana raised an eyebrow. "Any more embarrassing that peeing yourself like a baby? Than brazenly wearing a yellow-stained diaper right in front of a beautiful woman you have no chance with? You could have covered that up, you know. I think you wanted me to see it."
I gulped. Diana's icy stare was boring into me, so like the frightened toddler I was dressed as, I admitted: "Yes."
"Yes what?" Diana prompted.
"Yes Goddess," I immediately answered, fearful of her wrath.
Goddess tapped her chin thoughtfully. "No, I don't think that totally fits. Let's try something else. How about...'Mommy'?"
My heart skipped a beat when she said that. "Yes, Mommy," I replied obediently, still staring at the floor. I had to admit, the title made sense. It felt natural.
"Yes, what?"
I closed my eyes tight in humiliation, balling my fists like a petulant child. I felt like I was moments away from either breaking down in tears or shooting an impotent sissy load into my pampers just from the sheer excitement of the situation.
"Yes, I wanted you to see my soaked diapers," I admitted with a trembling, sissyish voice.
"As a good sissy baby should," Diana said, nodding approvingly.
There was a tense silence. I waited with bated breath, not daring to speak or do anything.
"Eve, look at me," Diana said.
Slowly, I looked up.
Diana was smiling at me sweetly, all traces of the stern, matronly dominatrix gone. "We just did a BDSM scene. Normally I don't do that with someone I just met, but you seemed like you wanted it." Then, a pause. "Did you? Be honest."
I was too ashamed to say yes, so I nodded.
"Do you want to stop here? I don't want to force you to do anything. And don't think I'm trying to get you to pay, either. I'm genuinely intrigued by you and am having fun as well."
"I... I..." I shook my head. "God, no. I think I want... need... more."
Diana smirked in that self-satisfied way again. "Good sissy."
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