Clover (Patreon)

"What a joke," Ella muttered, not caring if her microphone picked it up or not. Honestly, she sort of wished it would... Who cared if it made her bosses mad? After what they'd done to her, they deserved it.

Sure, it wasn't the Pulitzer, but she had just won a local award for an article she'd written last year, for cracking a conspiracy within the healthcare industry in her city. She'd been working for the newspaper for years before then, waiting for her big break, and, finally, she'd gotten it, and the attention she'd felt she'd deserved all along. Suddenly, there were jobs offers from magazines, bigger papers, and even television.

Ella wasn't stupid; she went with the latter. It was, perhaps, a strange thing to think about the place she'd decided to make her career, but she knew that print was dying. She enjoyed writing, though, so when she went to college, journalism had felt like the only viable option for a degree... Fiction was for children, after all. She'd been trying to transition from her first job at the paper - which she'd taken for her resume more than anything, while telling herself the fact they'd hired her straight out of college with no experience was a sign that newspapers were in big trouble, and not a permanent solution - to something in television for a while, yet nobody had answered her calls until the award.

And now look at her... It wasn't her fault there hadn't been any juicy stories in the few months since she'd taken the job. She had a few leads, but nothing she was ready to report on, and the higher-ups were starting to get antsy, to question their decision to hire her. They wanted her to get on air and do something, and so... Here she was. 

It was humiliating, frankly. She was a serious journalist... They should trust her enough to know it was worth waiting for a real story, instead of sticking her with this joke assignment. Yes, St. Patrick's Day was coming up, but, outside of frat boys and sorority girls, who really cared? 

Well, them and children, Ella mused. She was an only child, had never even considered taking up babysitting for extra money when she was younger, and, thus, had no idea was kids were into. Did they care about St. Patrick's Day? The station seemed to think so... Only children would find this 'story' she was doing interesting. Was that really what they wanted? For their hard-hitting, investigative reporter to have fanbase of little brats?

"Here," she grumbled, stopping at a flower bed, waiting for her camera crew to catch up. "Maybe there's some clover here."

How was she supposed to know?! It was a plant... There were plants growing everywhere! She probably could have done some research into it, but this whole thing was too stupid to deserve that. As soon as she'd realized there was no talking her way out of the assignment, the local botanical garden had been the first - and so far, only - place she'd been able to think of that might have clover. 

"Come on, four-leaf clover," she called out, as if it could hear and answer her, "Let me find you so I can go back to my real job."

She sighed, seeing the crew still hadn't caught up with her - for all she knew, they were still unloading equipment back at the van, since she'd stormed off in annoyance as soon as she could get away - and bent over, searching for her prey. She'd love to find one right away, so that her 'story' on how rare they really were would be about five seconds long, and prove to her bosses how stupid they were for demanding this. "Come on, clover..."

That was when she felt the back of her skirt being lifted up, her hands quickly grabbing the hem, trying to pull it back down. "Larry, I swear to God," she growled, wondering how that pervy cameraman had caught up with her so fast when she hadn't seen him a moment ago. The way he'd been leering at her since she started her job made her positive it was him. "If you don't let go right now, HR will have your job faster than..."

Then came the pat, the crinkle, the feeling of something very much not her thin, sleek satin panties against her backside. "Wh-What the..?" she frowned, turning around to see someone that was very much not Larry standing there, smirking as she checked the reporter's diaper.

Ella had no idea where to start; for someone whose job consisting, largely, of asking questions, she was at a loss for which to go with now.

'Who are you?' would be a good one, seeing as she'd never seen this woman - or, girl, really, since she didn't look terribly old, especially with her bright red, clearly dyed, hair and cropped shirt. Ella was pretty confident she was older than her by a good few years, although the girl was undeniably taller.

'Where did that diaper come from?' was another excellent option, but it was one she wasn't sure the girl could answer... Ella was positive she'd had on her usual underwear a second ago, and definitely knew she'd left the house wearing it. Even if she hadn't, there was not only no reason she'd have put on a diaper instead, she also had no reason to have diapers in her home. Where would she even buy one in her own size?! 

She had no doubt that was what she was wearing, despite all that. Every tiny movement, every attempt to yank herself free of the girl's grip, to lower her skirt before her co-workers approached and saw her like this, produced more rustling and crackling, while her backside began to sweat, surrounded by layers of soft, puffy padding and plastic, pushing down against her crotch at all angles. Whoever had put it on her, however they'd done it, had made sure it was nice and tight, so there wouldn't be any leaks.

Leaks?! Her cheeks lit up at the very idea. She was an adult! There was no reason she'd ever leak... She would never stoop to using these things at all, and certainly not enough to make them leak!

And then, of course, there was the question of, "What do you think you're doing?!", the one that actually escaped her lips. It was valid, too... What kind of person walked up to a stranger, who, for all they knew, was just enjoying the gardens, and lifted their skirt?! That, in and of itself, was almost as insane as the rest of this... And it hadn't even been a guy. She wasn't sure if she should be comforted by that or not, though, in the moment, she wasn't.

"I'm checking your diaper, silly," the girl told her. There was no trace of respect in her voice, no hint that she knew who Ella was. It was fair; Ella liked to think the news of her award had spread, but even if the girl knew about her story, she probably wouldn't have recognized her from the awful, black and white picture the paper had used for her byline. From the sound of it, however, the girl wasn't thinking of her as an adult at all, and there was no excuse for that. Ella might be shorter than her, yet there was no way anyone could mistake her for a child, diaper or not.

"Well, stop it!" Ella stood up, finally tearing her clothes away from the girl's grip. "That's none of your business!" Her confidence wavered slightly, knowing there was a chance this young woman would see her story, and tell all her friends about her encounter. "A-And just so you know anyway, I-I don't need..." She paused, remembering that her microphone might still be recording, hoping it hadn't picked up what the girl had said. "Th-Those..." she finished quietly, blushing.

"Somebody's feisty today," the girl smirked, stepping closer to the reporter, planting her hand back on her diapered bottom with a firm, hard swat. "I suggest you improve your attitude, little lady, or I'll spank your bum until it's as red as my hair."

Ella wasn't sure if it was how tall the girl was next to her, how small and weak she felt with her so near, or that reminder of her new padding, but she found it very hard to reply immediately, her usual bravado dwindling, trickling away into her diaper... Quite literally, she realized only when she girl's hand gave a squeeze, the garment squishing wetly, the formerly firm padding now soft, soaked.

"You were saying?" the girl stared down at the reporter, who was still too stunned to answer. This couldn't be happening... She couldn't be wearing a diaper at all, and she definitely couldn't have just wet it, just peed her pants like a toddler... She hadn't felt the urge at all, hadn't known her bladder needed relief, she'd simply let go, right in front of this stranger. "Come on," the girl gave her diaper a pat, "you've had enough fresh air for today. Let's go get you cleaned up."

Ella considered stopping her, of course, saying no, she needed to stay there and do her job... The idea that her crew - especially Larry - may have overheard the conversation, and of facing them while hiding a soaked diaper under her skirt, was enough to make her wonder if it would really be so bad to go with this girl instead. And, honestly, feeling the girl's hand close around her own, she realized she didn't have a choice. She was strong, as well as tall, and the smaller woman was helpless before her.

She was led the other way out of the gardens, away from her team, to a house she'd never seen before. She didn't spend a lot of time around there, but it felt like it was much too close to the botanical gardens, practically right in the middle of it, although, by then, she just wanted to stop toddling around in a drenched diaper, feeling it slosh around between her legs with every step, so she was glad to be able to go inside.

From the outside, the house looked fairly small and charming, like something Ella might expect to see on a British countryside in an old movie or something, but, inside, it was much bigger, more elaborate, to the point where she found it hard to believe it could all fit into the exterior she'd seen. She didn't have too much time to take it all in, the girl leading her through rooms and hallways quickly, before ending up in... a nursery.

Ella looked around, feeling uncomfortable standing in there in a diaper, knowing she probably looked like she belonged in such a place. The state of her diaper would make it appear even more so, no matter she, herself, knew she was a grown woman. Everything here was so big, too... In fact, she realized, glancing at the contents of the room, it was sized for her.

It wasn't that everything was bigger, although that was true... It was specifically sized to her. Every piece of furniture looked like she'd fit on it perfectly, as if it had been made just for her. As the girl helped her up onto the changing table, which was exactly big enough, Ella saw a potty training chart, positively covered in unhappy stickers, with the name 'Ella' written across the top.

Her stomach churned at the sight, but, when she tried to point it out, to say something, the girl simply pushed her down onto the soft, rustling surface of the table, pulling out a fresh diaper for the report to whine, "I don't need that!" about.

"Don't be silly," the girl chuckled, sliding Ella's skirt down, exposing her current diaper in all its sopping glory. "Of course you do."

Ella whined, laying her head back, not wanting to see this, knowing there was no way out of it, her eyes spotting a series of framed pictures on the dresser behind her. They were upside-down for her at the moment, yet, even like that, there was no question that the person in them, running around, playing with bubbles and stuffed animals, her diaper almost always visible, was her.

Of course everything in here was right for her; this was her nursery. It made no sense, since, obviously, she wasn't a baby, hadn't worn diapers before the one being slid out from under her bottom now in decades, but the evidence was all around her. The girl quickly, expertly slipped the fresh diaper under her, taped it up nice and snug, then switched out Ella's shirt for a pink t-shirt, giving her nothing else to wear, nothing that even came close to hiding the diaper.

"Wh-What's going on?" Ella sniffled, feeling overwhelmed as the girl picked her up, carrying her over to the crib.

"It's your naptime, baby," she cooed. "You know that... Hopefully you'll be less fussy when you wake up."

"No!" Ella shook her head as she was deposited inside, the bars pulled up and locked, the girl walking away. "I-I don't belong here! You hafta listen, you need to help me out of here! I'm not a baby!"

"Goodnight, Ella," the girl said, turning back as she spoke the reporter's name for the first time, the sound of it making Ella's blood run cold as she sat there, behind bars. She wasn't sure why she was surprised, after everything else, but knowing that the girl knew who she was, that this wasn't, somehow, some huge mistake, made it all feel more real, more final, as she switched the lights off.

It was, of course, the middle of the afternoon still, so the room was still plenty bright, sunlight streaming in through the windows to illuminate the prison Ella had found herself in. At first, she thought that would be her route out, that she'd open up the window, climb out, and run back to the van.

To do that, however, she'd have to escape her crib first, and there was no way that was happening. Just to further cement the idea that this was all meant for her, the bars of the crib were barely too tall for her. She could almost reach the top if she struggled, which kept her trying longer and harder, and made it even more agonizing when she failed, over and over. 

Finally, she plopped down, wrinkling her nose at the loud crinkling all around her, not only from around her waist, but also from the plastic sheet on the mattress. She didn't belong here... No matter what the name on that chart said, no matter what the pictures looked like, or how well-crafted this place was specifically for her, she was an adult woman, an award-winning reporter... She shouldn't be spending her afternoon sitting in a crib, wearing a big, thick, loud, mushy diaper.

Wait... Mushy? She frowned, her hand nervously drifting to the crotch of her diaper, gasping when she felt a lump there, the smell hitting her at the same time, ensuring there was no denying what it was. When had she done that?! How could she possibly have had an accident like that without feeling it?! 

She whimpered as she realized the lump was growing, expanding beneath her fingers, slowly spreading throughout her diaper. She hadn't pooped her pants without noticing; she was in the process of pooping her pants right now, and hadn't noticed! She clenched and fought with all her might, desperate to stop it, definitely feeling it now, both inside her diaper, and, since she hadn't yet moved her hand, outside as well, the mucky mess gradually filling every inch of the infantile garment, making it crackle as it expanded to accommodate it.

Finally, she felt it slow to a stop, and, for a moment, she thought she'd managed to get her control back... But, of course, she hadn't. Her bowels were simply empty, all of their contents already deposited in the seat of her diaper. She fidgeted, sniffling as the contents of her pants squelched around her. That potty training chart was telling the truth after all... Somehow, her years of knowing how to use the potty, of keeping her panties perfectly clean, had vanished, leaving her with all the control of an infant. 

She knew, obviously, that couldn't have been the case all along, that she hadn't been wearing diapers when she worked at the paper, when she'd won her award... And yet, the longer she sat there in her messy diaper, staring through the bars at all those stickers, and at the pictures of her on the dresser, the harder it was to think of that as the truth, and not just a long, increasingly hazy, dream.

But no... She had evidence! Her outfit, the one she'd been changed out of... That wasn't babyish, not like the things she saw in the open closet, or in the photographs... Why would she have had that, if she wasn't really a grown-up? She stood up again, grasping at the bars, searching the area of the changing table to see where the girl had put it, to prove to herself she hadn't imagined her entire adult life.

It was nowhere to be found. She stomped her foot in frustration, trying to convince herself she'd seen Mommy carrying it away when she was leaving, but she knew she hadn't. At last, she gave up, sitting down, letting her backside sink into the mess in her diaper, a thumb lodging itself in her mouth, where it belonged.

"A present?!" Ella squealed. "For me?!"

"Of course," Mommy smiled down at her. "It's a very special day today."

"It is?" Ella looked up from pressing on the box, trying to get a hint at what was inside. "Is it my birthday?"

"No, silly," Mommy chuckled. "It's a day called St. Patrick's Day. Do you know what that is?" 

It did sound familiar, but Ella wasn't sure why... And, to be honest, she didn't really care. All she wanted to do was open the box, see what was inside. She nodded anyway, hoping Mommy would tell her all about the day afterwards, just not now. "Are you lying?" Mommy asked, and Ella blushed slightly, not quite able to hide a smile. Mommy knew her so well... "You little stinker," Mommy shook her head.

"Tell me later, Mommy," Ella whined. "I wanna see!"

"In a minute," Mommy promised. "What do you think's in there?"

"It's big girl Pull-Ups!" Ella exclaimed.

"Why do you think that?" Mommy asked. "You haven't asked to use the potty once, Ella! You're not ready for those!"

"I-I would ask, if I had them," Ella nodded.

"It's not quite that," Mommy told her. Ella pouted, disappointed, not nearly as eager anymore. "St. Patrick's Day," Mommy lectured, "is a time when people called leprechauns get special powers. Do you know what they get them from?"

Ella had heard of leprechauns, somewhere, but she didn't know the answer, so she shook her head. "From four leaf clovers," Mommy said, the phrase making Ella feel something strange in her tummy. "So leprechauns, like Mommy, have to protect those clovers, especially on a day like today."

Ella tried to laugh off the odd sensation. "Y-You're not a leprechaun, Mommy, that's silly! Leprechauns are little!"

"Maybe," Mommy nodded. "Or maybe that's a myth... Or maybe you," she tapped Ella on the nose, "are just even littler than we are. Go on, Ella... Open your present."

Ella wasn't sure she wanted to, but Mommy had told her to, so, anxiously, she grabbed one of the flaps, lifting it up, staring down into the box...

"Ella? Is everything okay?" her boss tapped on her door. "We've been hearing strange sounds from in here, and..."

Ella looked up from her desk, gasping as she saw her office around her, instead of the nursery. Glancing down at herself, she saw the outfit, the one from that day at the park, still on her body. "I'm back?!" a smile spread across her face. 

"Y-Yeah," her boss frowned. "You left the gardens without telling the camera crew and walked back here without saying anything to anyone... Is something wrong?"

"Leprechauns!" Ella hopped up from her seat, rushing over to him, eyes wide. "Leprechauns are real! There's my next big story!"

He backed away a step or two, clearly uncomfortable. "Do you need to go home and lie down, or..?"

"That's where I've been all year!" she exclaimed. "I know where her house is, I can take you there, and..."

"What are you talking about, Ella? You haven't even been working here a year... Seriously, are you feeling all right?"

She had to have been trapped there a year... It had been St. Patrick's Day then, and then Mommy - or, rather, that awful leprechaun - had told her it was St. Patrick's Day again now... "Maybe she used her magic to make it seem like it had been a year," she mused out loud. "It doesn't matter, I still know where she is, and..."

He backed away again, eyes widening as he looked at her skirt, Ella noticing only then that she'd peed herself. It hadn't been an accident, either... She'd felt it this time, for the first time in a year, but she was so used to being in diapers by now, she hadn't had a second thought about letting go, soaking her panties right in front of him. "Actually, maybe you'd better wait here," he told her. "I think you need some help..."

"Of course I do!" she rolled her eyes. "Someone needs to go help me get my story about that leprechaun!"

But the people he sent, with the straightjacket and diaper, weren't interested in helping her with that, nor in keeping her colleagues from seeing her in her new get-up as they dragged her down to their van, took her to meet her new doctor... Who, it turned out, she was very familiar with.

"Well, look who it is," the doctor shook her head, staring down at her. "Orderlies, I think we'd better go with a spreader for her legs, too, to keep her from going anywhere... I think she's going to be a real troublemaker." She knelt down, getting level with the restrained woman's eyes. "I can't believe you published that story without waiting for my statement," she said. "I could have cleared the whole thing up for you, but you just couldn't wait, could you? As you can see, I got it all cleared up with the medical board, no problem. There's nothing untoward happening here, and never was... At least not until now."

She grinned, leaning closer, giving Ella's diaper a pat. "Don't worry, though, you'll get a chance to experience it for yourself. And maybe you'll finally learn some patience, too, because I'm going to make sure you stay here, under my care, and in these cute little diapers, which suit an impatient little brat like you perfectly, for a very, very long time."