Good Girl (Patreon)

A short story, commissioned by an anonymous Patron.

Misty cringed as she heard the other woman's voice, a thousand old fears running through her mind at the sound of it, a thousand memories of the mean things the owner of it had done to her over the years they'd been at school together. That was the reason she'd almost decided not to come to this reunion, but one of her friends had convinced her it would be worth it, that it wouldn't be so bad, that they'd watch Misty's back and keep her away from her old bully... And now they were off dancing with one of their old crushes, and Jemma was right behind Misty.

What should she do? Should she run away? That was probably what Jemma wanted... To see that she was still terrified of her, that she still had power over her, all these years later. And that was true; she still dominated Misty's nightmares more than she cared to admit. She didn't want Jemma to know that, however, to get the satisfaction...

"Oh, hello, there," she spun around, a forced smile on her face. "I didn't know you were here! So nice to see you!"

She expected that to take Jemma by surprise, to maybe put her back on her heels, but the woman's own smile didn't even appear to be fake... She'd always been good at faking it, though, at pretending to be innocent when Misty tried to snitch on her. "Hey!" she exclaimed. "You're looking good, girl!"

"Well, you know," Misty shrugged, "I've learned to do my makeup better since the last time we saw each other." She also had the money to spend a bit more on her padded bras, to get ones that looked bigger, and more natural, and had gotten more practice walking in heels. All of those were things that she could have done in high school - a lot of girls, it had felt like at the time, had, or hadn't needed to - but her mother hadn't wanted her to, so it wasn't until after she'd moved out that she could make an honest effort. By now, she was practically an expert at all of it.

"And it's paying off!" Jemma told her encouragingly. "Listen, I don't want to bother you... I'm sure you have other people you'd rather see than me. I just wanted to see you in person to tell you that I'm sorry. I know I was awful to you in high school."

"Really?" Misty arched an eyebrow. "I totally forgot..." 

That was going too far, she knew, and Jemma almost definitely saw right through her, though it did feel good to act like she had no idea what the woman was talking about. "Well, I'm glad it didn't bother you too much," she said. "I've been thinking about it a lot since then, and trying to find some way to make up for how I behaved. I want to build up other women, instead of preying on their insecurities... So I've been working on a kind of self-help program for building confidence. I'd really love it if you would give it a try... You might not need it, but..."

"I don't know," Misty admitted, "I think everyone could use a little extra confidence now and then..." She could use a lot, to be honest, and she never would have thought she'd be getting it from Jemma... It might be worth a shot, however, and even if it didn't work, she could laugh with her friends at how awful and cheesy it was.

"Give me your e-mail," Jemma pulled out her phone, "and I'll send it to you. And then I'll buy you lunch sometime after you've had a chance to try it, and we can talk about it."

In high school, Misty would never have dreamed of giving Jemma a way to contact her, or agreeing to eat with her... She had a good feeling about this, though... Maybe people actually could change...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You're sure about this?" Misty asked uncertainly. "I assumed we'd go to a coffee shop or something... This is..."

It was, if she was being real, probably the fanciest restaurant Misty had ever been in, and even in the skirt she'd worn for work, she felt under-dressed, and out of her league. Was she even going to be able to make it back to the office in time, or would she be stuck here, waiting on yet another course?

"It felt like I owed it to you, after... You know, everything," Jemma shrugged. 

"I don't know," Misty claimed haughtily, still proud of herself for coming up with that lie, and feeling another swell of pride at continuing to stick to it. "But if you really want to..."

"I do," Jemma told her. "I think this is what you deserve." They got a table together and ordered, Jemma getting a bottle of wine for them to share. "So, then," she asked after a few minutes, "did you have a chance to listen?"

Misty shifted in her seat. This had been what she was looking forward to, half of the reason she'd agreed to follow through on their lunch plans... Now that she was here, however, and she saw how much Jemma was willing to spend, making it seem as if her contrition was real, she was having second thoughts. "I did," she said cautiously.

"Good girl!" Jemma grinned. Misty knew she ought to be annoyed at that, that it was a strange way for Jemma to speak to her after acting like she'd had a change of heart, and wanted to treat her more like an equal... It did, however, fill her with a strange sense of joy to get that praise, making her squirm in her seat, smiling like an idiot, as if listening to an audio file a couple times was some amazing feat she'd pulled off. "And what did you think?"

"Umm..." Misty fidgeted, nibbling her bottom lip, her good mood keeping her from wanting to ruin the atmosphere. "Well..."

"Come on," Jemma encouraged. "You can tell me."

"If you want my honest opinion," Misty said, "I didn't get it. Like, I tried it a couple times, but a lot of it was just gibberish. Maybe something happened to the file when you sent it to me!" She was looking for excuses for Jemma now, where, before, she'd been ready to eviscerate her, to tell her all about what a terrible job she'd done, not even able to deliver something that made sense...

"Oh, that's too bad," Jemma frowned. "Well, you're still a very good girl for giving it a shot for me."

Misty beamed, legs swinging happily below her as she sipped her wine, the feeling of euphoria lasting through the soup course. She wiped the corners of her mouth, setting her napkin down on the table. "I'll be right back!" she declared. 

"Where are you going?" Jemma asked.

Misty assumed it would have been obvious, blushing slightly at being questioned. "Th-The bathroom," she replied. "I should be back before the salad gets here, and..."

"Don't be silly, you bad girl," Jemma scolded. "It's rude to get up while your dining companion is still eating."

"Oh." Misty sat still, her good mood instantly evaporating. How could she be so stupid?! She should have known that! She was making a fool of herself! She wanted so badly to impress Jemma, to show off how mature she was, how grown-up, and she was doing the exact opposite... "S-Sorry, I-I didn't..." She whimpered, wiping away the tears that were threatening to fall from the corners of her eyes.

"It's all right," Jemma told her. "Just sit and wait."

"O-Okay," Misty nodded, the sudden sadness that had overcome her almost making her forget why she'd wanted to get up in the first place, until she was part of the way through her salad, and the urge hit again. "I-I really need to go," she said. "Sorry, I..."

"What a bad girl," Jemma shook her head. "Not even waiting until we're between courses!"

Jemma was right... Doing this would be almost as bad as wetting her pants. Either way, she was proving what a dumb little girl she still was, so it was hopeless to try to pretend otherwise... "I-I'm sorry!" she sniffed, picking her fork back up for another bite, wincing as she felt another twinge in her bladder. "I-I really hafta go," she confessed.

"Well, if you weren't dressed like such a bad girl, that wouldn't be an issue!" Jemma sighed, standing up and marching over to Misty's chair. "Come on." Reluctantly, Misty stood up and took her hand, feeling so awful about herself that she didn't see an alternative to being led through the restaurant like a little girl, taken to the restroom. "Just look at yourself!" Jemma ordered, pushing her in front of the mirror. "Those clothes are what a bad girl wears, aren't they?"

Misty squirmed, staring forlornly at her reflection. She wouldn't have thought so normally, but now that Jemma said it, that must be the case... The feeling of depression that was taking over her mind was intertwining with this outfit now, making her never want to wear it, or anything like it, again... Although, since that was what she wore to work every day, she wasn't sure what else she was going to do.

"Look at this suit!" Jemma grumbled, starting to unbutton the blazer, Misty making a token attempt to stop her, then losing all motivation to do even that, just glad to be getting out of these clothes. "Only a bad girl would run around in this! And what are these?" Misty blushed as Jemma gave her breasts a squeeze. "I knew those were fake... Only bad girls wear padded bras! Good girls embrace their bodies, however scrawny and pitiful they still are! Don't you want to be a good girl?"

Misty nodded desperately, remembering what it had felt like when Jemma had called her that. She wanted to be that again more than anything... Enough to not stop the woman from unbuttoning her shirt in the middle of the bathroom, or taking off her bra. "This is more like it," Jemma declared, reaching into her purse and pulling out a pink, cotton training bra, covered in lace and ribbons. "This is what good girls wear."

"I-It is?" Misty frowned, taking it. It was so childish, so immature... But it would be better than running around bare-chested, and she didn't think she could stomach the idea of putting her old clothes back on. She took the bra from Jemma and pulled it on, sure it had to be a joke...

Until Jemma praised her with, "Good girl! That looks so much better!" Misty's doubts floated away as happiness flowed through her, proud of what she was wearing... At least up top. "These heels... These are definitely what bad girls wear. And this skirt! It's so long! Long skirts are for bad girls, too... And what are these?!" She unzipped the skirt, starting to slide it down Misty's legs, revealing her black, silk panties. "No, no, no! Bad, bad girl!"

"I-I'm sorry!" Misty whimpered, grabbing at the underwear herself, ready to rip them off, to get them away from her, while Jemma stripped the rest of the clothes off of her. "Y-You're right! "I-I don't know what I was thinking!"

"Only very, very bad girls wear underwear! Get those off right now!" Jemma ordered, and Misty was happy to comply, tossing them into the trash can, never to be seen again, waiting eagerly to be called a good girl for doing what she was told. "Do you know what good girls wear instead?" Misty shook her head, though she truly couldn't wait to find out. Jemma grinned, reaching into her purse again and producing a large, crinkly, disposable diaper.

"I-I don't need that!" Misty gasped, blushing bright red.

"Don't be a bad girl, Misty," Jemma sighed. "Only bad girls refuse to wear their diapers, or pretend they don't need them." She knelt down, opening up the diaper, spreading it out on the floor. "Come on, Misty... Be a good girl..."

What was going on?! This was a diaper! Those were for babies! And yet... She wanted more than anything not to be a bad girl anymore... So, reluctantly, she sat down in the middle of the mass of padding. "What a good girl!" Jemma praised her immediately, continuing throughout as she powdered Misty up and taped the diaper snugly around her waist, until Misty's mind was overflowing with happiness, all connected to her diapers.

"We can't let you run around like this, though, as cute as you are," Jemma mused. "Oh! Lucky for you, I have the sweetest little dress, too..." It was a pink party dress, one that Misty could tell before it was even pulled over her head that it would be too short... But once Jemma had it on her, and smoothed out the skirt, she cooed, "Good girls always wear skirts that leave their diapers showing. And look at that! You're doing it, too! What a good girl!" Good girls also never wore make-up or heels, so Jemma was pleased to help her wash her face and to put her into a pair of matching pink Mary Janes, and Misty was happy to comply once she heard about all that, even though the image she saw in the mirror appeared to be that of a two year old now, rather than an adult businesswoman.

"That is so much better!" Jemma told her. "There's just one more thing... Good little girls use their diapers. And you had to go potty, didn't you?"

Misty paused, shuffling in place, listening to her diapers crinkle as they bulged between her thighs. "U-Use them?" she frowned uncertainly. "I-I don't know..."

"You don't have to!" Jemma assured her. "But if you were really a good girl... Oh, I guess you are!" Misty had barely even realized she was doing it, that she'd let go, until Jemma said that, and she peered down at herself, seeing a wet spot starting to form on her padding, so obvious beneath the short skirt of her party dress... Hearing how good she was for doing it, however, made her glad she had. "Such a good girl... The very best girls, though, the cream of the crop... They do everything in their diapers."

And that was all it took for Misty to start to push, Jemma telling her the whole time how good she was as she felt the warm mush begin to invade her diaper, oozing out, making a very obvious lump in the back of her pants, slowly but surely filling up every crevice, all of the praise making the whole thing feel incredible... Better than sex in a lot of ways...

"What an amazingly good girl you are!" Jemma smirked when Misty was finished. "I've never seen a better one! Now, then, we'd better go finish eating, huh? We wouldn't want you be to late getting back to work!" Misty happily took her hand, so pleased with herself that she didn't notice the stares she got, or the laughter that followed her... She didn't even mind the squish as she sat down - if anything, it reminded her of how good she was for using her diapers completely, and that sent a new wave of euphoria through her, guaranteeing that, no matter what happened, no matter how anyone else reacted, all she wanted to do from now on was be a good girl for Jemma, never suspecting that this was merely the woman's newest, and most successful attempt at bullying her... Or that it had gone even more perfectly than Jemma could have ever imagined.