Stinkies

Amanda typed away on her keyboard, trying to ignore the wet diaper squishing beneath her bottom and focus on her article – Top Ten Hottest Baby Fever Celebrities. It was a trashy tabloid piece about sexy celebrities who’d caught the Baby Fever virus and been photographed in lewd positions. It was far beneath someone with her journalistic credentials, but it was all she was allowed now… ever since she’d found out too much.

Stinkies was a powerful company that had sprung up from nowhere after the Baby Fever virus had spread through the country and turned thousands of capable women into overgrown toddlers. The company specialised in products aimed at the mentally regressed, mainly Stinkies brand nappies, and Amanda had been following a lead that their marketing plans had been made beforethe virus had first appeared, and from there a chain of evidence that suggested they’d known about the virus long before anybody else. Months of investigating, months of careful infiltration, and she’d ended up in front of the CEO’s own computer… and then been caught.

They’d strapped her down and she’d waited for them to jab her with the virus, one of the most extreme variants no doubt, to rid themselves of a pesky reporter by turning her mind to infantile mush. She remembered trying to look brave while she lay there, imagining what she’d be like when they were done with her, how she’d likely be too interested in sucking on her toes and flashing her boobs at strangers to care about criminal corporate activities, how she’d probably be happy to toddle up to the CEO in nothing but a dirty diaper and tell him proudly that she was a big girl because she could tell when she’d pooped.

She was sure they were going to regress her, especially given how willing the CEO had been to spill his secrets. No, we didn’t make the virus. We just happened to get clued in before it got released. He hadn’t given her more than that, but she’d assumed he’d only told her even that much because she wouldn’t soon be in any condition to repeat the information. But no… I’ve got something a bit different in mind for you, little lady.

They didn’t even need to use the virus. They had powerful hypnotic conditioning that could mimic its effects, even apply specific conditions for activation… They’d strapped the headset over her eyes and ears, and before the lights and the music swept everything else away, the CEO had told her what was going to happen to her.

She’d get to keep her adult mind, but she was going to be a Stinkies customer from now on. No more using the big girl toilet. She’d pee in a nappy, and she’d have a little plastic training potty to do her number twos in – that last bit was important, because of the activation condition they were going to add for the hypnosis; if she pooped her pants, her adult mind would be wiped. And keeping her pants clean wasn’t going to be nearly as easy as it had been, since the hypnosis would permanently reduce her toileting skills to the level of a toddler’s. I think you’re going to be a bit too busy to carry on as a bigshot journalist, sweetie. Enjoy spending your life in a perpetual state of potty training! And don’t forget, you’ve got everything to lose!

True to their word, they’d let her go afterwards, making sure she knew that telling anyone about what she’d discovered was the other trigger for her mental regression. But Amanda hadn’t exactly been able to go back to her normal life… They’d given her a new job writing for a cheap tabloid owned by the Stinkies company. She tried to keep up with her journalism, even though she was only allowed to write about fashion and celebrities and other things the Stinkies CEO considered appropriate for girls… but it was hard. Potty training was a full time job. In-person investigations and interviews were off the table, as was anything that made it so she couldn’t rush to her plastic potty at a moment’s notice. Cute and pink and horrible, it went with her wherever she went. She hadn’t yet been forced to pull it out of her diaper bag and use it in public, but she knew that even with her careful preparations it was bound to happen sooner or later; an embarrassing public potty sitting in the middle of the mall was just something she’d have to deal with eventually. Currently her potty sat in the middle of her bedroom for ease of access, for when she felt that ominous rumbling in her bowels that meant she had approximately ten seconds to slam her bottom on the seat before she lost control.

Sometimes she thought about how easy it would be to just let go… That was her worst fear, that she might one day give up, that it would all become too much for her to take. She’d feel the need to poop and she’d just stand there and go in her Stinkies. No more struggling, no more shame. One time was all it would take. Her adult mind would slip away and she’d be left as an empty-headed adult baby, happy as a clam in her messy nappy.

Amanda shook her head and tried to focus on her writing. She’d spent the last hour trying to finish a final paragraph about Emma Watson, who’d been photographed in the middle of a diaper change with her legs kicking in the air and her wet sex on display.  It was hard to concentrate with the TV blaring in the background, but she had to keep it on at all times of the day, playing the channel they aimed at Baby Fever victims. Another stipulation from the Stinkies CEO. Mostly it showed inane toddler-style programs for the mentally reduced, intermixed with adverts aimed at their caregivers.

“Stinkies In-Betweeners are as thick as nappies, but they go up and down like training pants!” a cheerful voice announced, as a beautiful young woman pulled a thick nappy up over her bottom and grinned stupidly over her shoulder at the camera. “Perfect for big girls who make it to the potty sometimes.” The girl slipped her thumb into her mouth, giggled, then squatted down. A moment later, the seat of her diaper drooped heavily. “Oopsie!” said the announcer. “Good thing she had her Stinkies on!”

Amanda shivered. There was a slight twinge in her bladder, and she let a stream of pee flood into her own Stinkies In-Betweeners. They were sopping wet now, but there was no point holding in her wee-wee when she had to do it in her pants anyway. As long as her diaper didn’t end up like the girl in the advert’s, loaded up with poopy, she’d be okay.

She went back to concentrating on Emma Watson’s lewd nappy change, and with a final few taps on her keyboard, she finished her article. It might be tabloid nonsense in bad taste, but it was something. Something she’d achieved that week beyond simply keeping her pants clean. She allowed herself the shadow of a proud smile.

Then her bowels lurched into life. With a gasp, Amanda jumped to her feet, hands pressed firmly against her bottom. She had to go potty right now. Fighting the pressure in her backside with all her might, she started toddling over to her potty, taking shuffling baby-steps that crossed the distance agonizingly slowly. But she knew that any movement that put too much strain on her bowels could lead to a stinky present in her pants, and the end of her adulthood. Her face was bright red and scrunched up in concentration, her eyes fixed determinedly on the little plastic potty sitting in the middle of the room. She just had to get her bottom on it. Nothing else mattered – not just in that moment, but in her whole life. What did some stupid media article matter compared to this? All Amanda’s dreams, all her plans and ambitions, had been replaced by a single goal: making sure her Stinkies didn’t live up to their name.

She just made it… this time.