The Nanny's Challenge - Chapter 8 (Patreon)

By the end of the meeting, despite herself, Lyra was back to squirming desperately in her seat. It wasn't that she'd forgotten about it, or changed her mind... However, the last time she'd adjusted her position in the chair, she'd felt a much bigger squish beneath her than she'd anticipated, realized she was even wetter than she realized. She must have been dribbling into her diaper the whole time she'd been paying attention! And now, if she did it much more, she might leak.

She squeezed her thighs together, nibbled her bottom lip, did everything she could think of to keep from peeing in her pants further, everything she'd seen Hallie doing in the rear-view mirror on long car rides, when the next rest stop was just a couple miles away. She had a bad feeling anyone else around the table who also had kids would recognize it, but, in the moment, it was hard to care too much... She was too busy fighting to stay dry. Better to have them think they saw her struggling not to wet her pants, rather than standing up with a big wet spot, and confirming to everyone - whether they were familiar with potty dances or not - what she'd done.

It was the juice's fault. That had to be it... She'd been afraid it would, and it had; she ought to get points for that, at least. If she'd been in control, she would have had only a couple sips of it, if that, instead of the whole cup. She wouldn't have gulped down the whole thing before a long meeting where she knew she couldn't excuse herself. It shouldn't matter if she wet herself because of that... It wasn't a situation she'd normally get herself into.

Of course, thinking about it, she could recall times where she'd insisted Hallie finish up her juice before letting her get up from the table, and then the girl having an accident while she was watching her favorite show. That wasn't the same, however... Hallie could get up and go to the bathroom whenever she wanted. Technically, Lyra could do that, but it wouldn't look good.

Finally, the meeting ended, and she scurried back to her office, diaper squishing wetly between her legs with every step. If anyone had asked, she couldn't have told them a single thing that was discussed in there, what she or her team were meant to improve, or keep doing, based on it; all she wanted to do was get a fresh diaper on before disaster struck.

"H-How was the meeting?" her secretary asked her, staring up at her with her big, hopeful eyes, clearly looking for, if not an apology, at least a hint of kindness, a sign that Lyra snapping at her when she headed out wasn't her fault.

Another time, perhaps she would have gotten it, too. Lyra could tell that's what she wanted, and she knew none of this was the woman's fault... However, right then, it was hard to care too much about it. If she stopped and talked, she might have another accident, and she couldn't afford that. "It was great," she said curtly, coldly, without stopping.

Once again, after shutting her door and making sure the blinds were closed, she grabbed a diaper. Something seemed different about this one, although she couldn't quite place it. She tried, this time, to keep her eyes open, to watch what happened, but she couldn't help herself... The scent of the diaper was too nostalgic. She caught herself starting to close her eyes, only let them do it for a split second, yet that was plenty, and, as soon as they opened, the changing table was back.

"Fine, let's do this," she mumbled, tossing her skirt and jacket across her chair and climbing onto the table with her new diaper. She still wasn't positive why she thought it felt odd, what set it apart... Was it just that the one between her legs was so wet, and droopy, as opposed to how this one felt in her hands? She was hardly used to these things again, thank goodness, so maybe she simply wasn't remembering correctly what it had felt like dry.

It wasn't the only thing that wasn't exactly the same as in her memory. The changing table's surface didn't feel quite as soft beneath her... It was more like what she'd expect from an exam table at the doctor's office than a changing table. And, this time, she spotted restraints at the corners, making her cheeks turn red at the very sight. They'd probably been there last time, too, and she hadn't noticed, but either way, knowing they were there now made her nervous.

It was a huge relief, getting the drenched diaper off herself, and a comfort to be able to clean herself off with the baby wipes. Once she sat herself down on the fresh diaper, things started to feel a bit less pleasant. With it beneath her, it was easy to decipher what set it apart from the others - it was definitely thicker, the padding, like the table, not nearly as comfy and inviting. The other diapers were the kind of thing she'd put on Hallie, something nice and poofy and cute. This was more what she'd think of a medical diaper for adults being like... Or something meant as a punishment.

She wasn't about to say she liked the other diapers, but she did like them more than this. This - other than the extra bulk - was probably more similar to what she should have, a real adult diaper rather than a replica of her daughter's baby ones, yet it was impossible to deny what she'd been wearing was clearly more comfortable, by far, even before she'd taped herself in.

She briefly considered climbing down, getting herself another diaper. She'd already unfolded this one, sat on it... She'd be all right. She wiggled in place, sighing, reaching out for where she'd seen the bottle of powder, frowning when her fingers hit something else instead, a container with a bunch of smaller things. She picked one up, bringing it closer to her face to look at it. It was small, shaped almost like a bullet, and felt waxy. She had no idea what it was, or why it would be there, until she turned, staring at the container it had come out of, filled with duplicates, the side declaring them, 'Suppositories.'

"Oh!" she gasped, dropping the thing as if it was going to come to life and insert itself. Why was that there?! She pushed the rest of them aside, searching for powder, only to see another bottle behind them, a bit smaller, this one apparently containing, 'Laxatives.' "No!" she pouted, unsure if she was talking to herself, the table, or the Nanny, wherever she was. The third bottle was labelled, 'Castor Oil.' She blushed, squirming in place. "I-I don't need that!" she insisted.

Those things hadn't been there when she sat down, had they? She could have sworn she'd seen lotion and powder and oil - baby oil, not castor - the same as had been there when she'd changed herself last, when she climbed up... Or had she just assumed that's what they were? She wasn't certain now, only knew there was no way she was using any of the stuff she was seeing there.

"Fine," she huffed, reaching down for the front of her diaper. "I don't need powder anyway." She'd already made a mess of her jacket... It wouldn't show up nearly as bad on her shirt, but it was probably better not to risk it anyway.

She frowned, her hand stopping well before it reached its destination. She tried to move it again, felt it travelling further away, turned to look at it... And saw a pink, fuzzy cuff around her wrist, a strap pulling it back towards the corner of the table. "What the hell?!" she whimpered, her other hand grabbing at it to undo it... Just to realize it, too, had been captured. "Let me go!"

She attempted to kick her feet in protest, but they were strapped down already as well. She was trapped, tied to this changing table in the middle of her office, lying on an extra-thick diaper... What was she going to do?! Her cell was in her purse, sitting on her chair with most of her clothes, and, after the way she'd treated her secretary, the last thing she wanted to do was shout out, bring her in there.

"What is going on?!" she hissed, squirming, every movement making the straps tighten more, pulling her limbs further apart from one another. "This is not the time! Get these things off me!"

And, just when she thought this would be the worst of it, she saw it. At first, it was just the end, peeking up over the edge of the table, looking like a thin tentacle, or a small snake, neither of which would have been welcome anywhere near her at any time, much less when she was restrained and unable to get away. In fact, she felt, and was able to look down and see, a trickle of wetness escape from her, soaking into the fresh diaper before she could even get it on.

She didn't know if what she saw next was better or worse than her initial fears. The object kept crawling up onto the table, slithering up, looking longer and longer, until, at last, she saw what was on the other end... A big, bulging, red enema bag. It wasn't some kind of monster she was seeing... It was a hose, one that was creeping closer and closer to her exposed backside.

"No!" she squealed. Between this, and the other things on the table, the message was clear... Whether she liked it or not, she was going to have a desperate need to use the bathroom shortly. "I-I can just go on my own!" she insisted. "Y-You don't have to... Oh!" Her eyes popped open, cheeks burning as the hose reached its destination, inserting itself into her bottom. "St-Stop!" she squeaked. "I-I'll take the laxatives!" The hose didn't stop. "O-Or the castor oil!"

She didn't know how, or where the hook had come from, but when she glanced away from the hose, she saw the enema bag hanging from the ceiling above her ominously, ready to deliver its contents. "O-Or the suppositories!" she promised. "J-Just don't..."

She heard a click, and, by the time she spotted the clamp on the hose, the water had already made its way down the lengthy bit of tubing, and began gushing into her. She let out a wordless whimper, her toes curling, her rear wriggling, trying to get it out of her, yet there wasn't a thing she could do. She was getting an enema, and that was that.

At first, just the sensation of something flowing into her, instead of out, was disconcerting enough, the constant stream messing with her mind a little, making her feel like she had to use the bathroom right then. After a few moments, she got, if not used to, at least the tiniest bit accustomed to it, allowing her to notice how full it was making her, how it was making her feel big and bloated... And, staring at herself, she could see it wasn't entirely her imagination, either. Her belly was definitely protruding slightly more, growing as more and more of the enema pumped itself into her body.

"That's enough!" she whined, looking up and seeing the enema bag barely half empty. "I-I can't hold anymore!"

And yet, somehow, she did. She didn't have a choice, really... The water kept coming, despite the cramps that were already starting, no pause or break or relief for her until she'd taken every drop. She felt full, miserable, a tad dazed, too preoccupied with the rumbling inside her to think about how she could feel powder, and oil, and lotion spreading itself over her crotch, how her thighs were being pushed apart as the diaper was raised between them, how snug the sides were being pulled and taped into place, or, most of all, how they were doing that on their own, with nobody else in the room.

All that really mattered was that, in a matter of moments after the enema ended, she'd been diapered again, and the cuffs came undone. Slowly, she sat up, groaning at the pressure the position put on her tummy, causing her to hop down onto the stool that helped her reach the table quicker than she would have otherwise, before she got a good look at what awaited her at the bottom. 

She shouldn't have needed to; she'd seen her office a million times. But she'd never seen what was there now, the playpen set up, the walls too high for her to climb over, the only opening right in front of the stool, where she was about to step. Eyes wide, she turned, looking back at the table, wondering if she should scramble back onto it, try to hop off the other side - and hope the impact of her landing didn't cause a catastrophe in her pants - just to see it had seemingly grown, stretching up higher than ever, too tall for her to get onto, stool or not.

With no other options, she carefully stepped down into the playpen, immediately spinning around, ready to push the stool aside, get free of the pen, grab at least her skirt, and run to the bathroom. She should have known she'd be too slow, that the stool would be gone, along with the table, replaced by the final piece of the playpen, locking her inside.

"This isn't fair!" she whined. "I-I can't stay in here! I-I'm not gonna be able to hold this thing for long! You hafta let me out!"

Turning back around, the playpen had re-shaped itself, shrinking, confining her further, barely giving her room to squirm, keeping her legs locked tightly together, hands clamping to the seat of her diaper as another cramp hit. "Come on!" she gritted her teeth. "Y-You can't do this to me!"

She turned again, and saw the changes hadn't yet stopped. The pen had grown again, in that direction, and she gratefully toddled away, once she dared move again. Her chair was close... If she could control herself long enough, perhaps she could find a way to climb the sides of the pen and escape. After a moment of standing still, however, she felt a nudge, lightly at first, then nearly bowling her over when she didn't do anything.

The side of the playpen had closed in behind her, was right up against her. She stumbled away from it, not wanting to fall, not positive her control was good enough at the moment to survive that, noticing, too late, that the other side of the playpen was stretching out in response, guiding her, shepherding her right into the corner.

"No way," she shook her head, once it hit her what was happening. She was being put in time-out, like a naughty toddler.... It would have been embarrassing anyway, but now, after having gotten an enema... "No!"

The back of the playpen bumped against her again, scooting her forward the last few steps, practically pinning her to the corner before backing off, although, when she turned her head, she saw it hadn't given her more than a pace or two's space. It was enough to keep her from feeling crowded, but not enough to actually go anywhere. "Stop it!" she pouted. "You hafta let me out of here, now! Don't you know what's going to happen?!"

There was no answer, though she knew it had to be yes. Of course it - or she, since it had to be the Nanny behind this - did. It was the point, most likely. "I won't!" she crossed her arms defiantly, not quite brave enough to try stamping her feet, no matter how much she wanted to. "I am not gonna mess my diaper!"

She blushed, realizing how loudly she'd said that, how close, despite the wall between them, she was to her workers there in that corner. If only they knew their boss was mere feet away, mere moments from filling her diaper like a little baby... She'd never live it down!

"Come ooon," she whimpered, face twisting as another cramp hit her, taking every bit of the muscle control she had left from whatever the Nanny had done to her to hold back. "I-I get it, okay? I learned my lesson!" She hadn't; she knew this must be a lesson, that she was being punished for something, but she had no idea what. There was no reason the Nanny had to know that, though.

"J-Just lemme go to the potty!" she begged, when that didn't do anything, starting to feel more and more frustrated at the lack of response, more and more helpless and babyish. "Corner time needs to be over right now! I-I don't wanna..."

But it was already too late. Mid-word, she fell silent, gasping as she felt her knees buckle, her heavily padded backside stick itself out as her over-worked muscles contracted, giving out. It was all over so quickly, she didn't have a chance to stop it, to try and turn the tide once it had begun... One moment, she was struggling, doing her very best to keep her diaper clean; the next, it was full, the padding bulging outwards, the snug tapes holding the mushy mass close to her, reminding her with every stinky, squelchy movement of what she'd done, how she'd committed the ultimate infantile act.

"N-No," she swallowed, shaking her head, unable to accept it. "I-I didn't... I-I wouldn't... I-I couldn't..." Yet, when she tentatively reached behind herself, giving the seat of her diaper a poke, there was no denying what she felt there. The words were hard to get out, not only because she wasn't sure what else to say, how to undo this, but also because she realized, at some point, she'd started to suck on her thumb without realizing it, completing the babyish picture of the little girl, stuck in the corner in a very dirty diaper.

This had to be enough... The Nanny had to be satisfied. When she turned around, however, the playpen was still there, holding her in place. The only change was the small, wooden stool waiting behind her.

"Pwease, no!" she mumbled behind her thumb, the message obvious. "Not that!" But nothing else was happening, no sign of her escaping from her time-out, so, after a few moments of her standing there, she stomped her foot - finally free to do that with no risk of having an accident, now that she'd totally emptied herself out already - and slowly lowered herself onto the stool.

She wrinkled her nose, feeling the mess compress beneath her, squishing between her legs, reaching what felt like every inch of her diaper. The stool hadn't seemed that tall when she sat, but once she was sitting, her feet dangled, unable to reach the rungs, much less the floor, forcing her to put all her weight on her backside. The playpen's wall crept closer, pushing her and her seat forward, right up to the corner, where she spent a good, long time blushing, and squirming, and thinking about what she'd done.

She had no idea, once she noticed the playpen was no longer in front of her - and then, turning, that it wasn't behind her, either, or anywhere at all - it had been gone, and she'd been sitting there unnecessarily... All she knew was she was glad it was over. She waddled desperately to her purse, pulling out the final diaper waiting there, unfolding it even before she'd walked to the changing table, feeling the inside. Thankfully, it felt like the other ones, and, when she got onto the table, there were no restraints again.

Her punishment was over, clearly, though having to clean herself up felt like part of it as well. She hated how nice this diaper felt, at least compared to the last one, how much more comfortable it was. She shouldn't be getting used to any diaper, but, if it was going to happen, these were definitely the ones she wanted.

In all the panic and humiliation of her last change, she hadn't realized she never threw away that diaper. It was waiting for her at the edge of the changing table now, beside the one she'd just taken off, ready for her to bag them up and toss them into her little garbage can. Even if one of them hadn't been messy, however, it was clear she couldn't leave them there for long... One diaper barely fit into it by itself, much less two.

She was going to have to get rid of them, before they stunk up her whole office, or somebody saw them. She got dressed, sitting down at her desk for a few moments to calm her nerves, checking her e-mail to see if anyone had sent out a summary of the meeting she'd spaced out during. 

Instead, on the dummy account she'd had the IT people set up for her, to receive the e-mails her team was sending to each other and not her, there was a drawing. It was far from the first... They were harmless, really, and the person doing them was fairly talented. Usually, they depicted Lyra rampaging through the office in the form of Godzilla, or some other giant monster. They didn't bother Lyra - they were a sign that they recognized her power, her authority. Thinking about them now, however, after what she'd just been through, she was starting to think of them in a different light, even before she clicked on this one to see what it was.

She definitely wasn't a monster this time around. It was still clearly her, but she was wearing a childish, polka-dot dress, her hair in pigtails, holding an oversized lollipop, stomping her Mary-Jane clad foot, with a caption reading, 'I think somebody needs a nap.'

That, she didn't like. Lyra's immediate reaction was to find some way to punish the artist without letting her know she knew about the pictures. After a moment, though, she calmed, thought about the way she'd acted today. She had been acting pretty childishly, throwing a tantrum even before she was trying to get out of her time-out. She'd been yelling at people for no real reason, making them feel bad... Clearly, the Nanny had been right to punish her, whether she agreed with the methods or not.

Lyra took out the whole trash bag from her can, tying it tight, hoping it, and the bags the diapers themselves were in, would disguise the smell if she moved quickly enough. She tried to hurry past her secretary's desk, but the woman was still doing her best to make up for whatever she'd clearly done to upset her boss. "Do you want me to take that?" she offered.

"No!" Lyra snapped, without thinking. When she saw the look in the other woman's eyes, she paused, thinking of the drawing, and her corner time. "No, thank you," she corrected herself. "I-I appreciate it, but I'll handle it myself. Thank you," she repeated with a nod, turning to hurry away before adding, "Y-You're doing a great job." 

She didn't feel up to apologizing to everyone else, or doing much of anything else, so she spent what was left of the afternoon doing her very best to keep from using her diaper any more, knowing there wasn't another in her bag to change into, wanting to greet the Nanny, and her daughter, in a dry one. 

She almost made it, too... At the last minute, she got an e-mail from her boss, asking for a progress report on one of her team's projects, and, after typing up a quick answer, she leaned back in her seat, ready to watch the last few moments of the work day tick by... And felt a squish. It was a small one, but it was undeniable, unhideable. She'd gone through every single one of the diapers the Nanny had sent her here with.

She felt incredibly bashful, going outside and seeing the Nanny and Hallie there waiting for her, the latter waving cheerfully. The Nanny offered a hand, and, for a moment, Lyra considered refusing it, until remembering what the woman had done to her that day, when she wasn't even in the same place as her. Lyra took her hand, and, as she'd suspected, she immediately found herself reduced to an actual toddler again, her purse morphed into a backpack, her outfit matching her daughter's exactly.

"Go on," the Nanny told Hallie. "Tell her your news."

"I only had one accident today!" Hallie beamed. "And it wasn't very big, either!"

"Isn't that wonderful, Lyra?" the Nanny asked, looking at her meaningfully until she nodded. "And how did you do?"

"O-Oh," Lyra blushed, staring down at her feet. She was positive the Nanny knew the truth, that she didn't have to ask at all, that this was a test... But, even knowing that, she couldn't force herself to tell the truth, to admit to her daughter that she'd gone through so many more diapers than her. "I-I had a couple little accidents," she lied. "I-I changed right away, so I went through most of my diapers. I-I'm not used to them, like you. B-But that's great!"

"Hmm," the Nanny raised an eyebrow. Thankfully, she didn't correct Lyra, or make her tell the truth. However, when they got home, and Lyra toddled to her room to set her backpack down, she saw a pair of potty training charts hanging on the wall behind her changing table, one for Hallie, with a single frowny face sticker on it, and one for her, with a whole series of them, along with a dark cloud.

"And I think fibbing earns you an extra," the Nanny informed her, stepping around the gawking girl to affix another frowny face to the chart. "Honestly... This is not a very good start, is it?"

"I-It's not fair!" Lyra pouted. "I-I wouldn't have done... that one..." she pointed at the cloud, too bashful to say anything more, "if you hadn't..."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about," the Nanny said. "I certainly didn't force you to do anything so childish as that. Perhaps if you had been better behaved, you would not have needed any... encouragement."

Lyra's cheeks lit up, not wanting to talk, or think, about it any more. There was no denying she'd done it... Maybe it was her fault. Maybe she should have been able to hold it until her corner time was over... "I-It still isn't fair," she complained. "I have important, grown-up stuff I hafta do... It's not the same as with Hallie! I can't just stop everything to make it to the pot... to the bathroom sometimes!"

The Nanny looked down at her, listening, before mysteriously saying, "Perhaps you have a point," and walking away.

"Th-Then it doesn't count?" Lyra asked. "We won't count today?"

The woman didn't stop, didn't reply, leaving Lyra alone, fidgeting and staring up at the chart, wondering what, exactly, the Nanny had gotten from what she'd said, and whether it was going to make things even worse for herself. Given her current track record, that was almost certain... She just wasn't sure how yet.