The Girl Next Door - Part 2 (Patreon)

I'm not gonna lie. My hands were shaking when I entered the bathroom with the bright pink unicorn diaper in my hands. In my wildest dreams- or even nightmares- I never imagined I'd be standing in the powder room with one of my diapers in the house with the girl next door.

Now granted, my mind was racing, looking for a way out of this situation. This was an example of pure stupidity. But part of me wondered if she was just bluffing, just forcing me to put on this diaper to teach me a quick lesson before sending me on my way. Part of me wished I could just have stayed home and asked her for the box like a reasonable adult.

But it was too late for that now. I had dug this grave, and now... I needed to lie in it.

I unfolded the diaper and began the process of fluffing it out. I laughed to myself... there was no point in delaying this process. It wasn't like I was going to enjoy this diaper. I wasn't wearing this under my terms. I wasn't even going to actually pee in this diaper either. This diaper, I accessed brutally, was a cruel blackmail diaper that caused the pit of my stomach to feel like it was constantly on fire. I didn't like this feeling.

Leaning against the wall, I positioned the diaper behind me and pulled it up between my legs, ending the sequence by taping the front of the pink diaper shut. After checking for the perfect fit and ensuring the leak guards were standing, I pulled my underwear back over the diaper and my pants up. The underwear would ensure it didn't actually look like I was wearing a diaper. Luckily, I had worn some sweatpants, which also helped. I glanced into the bathroom mirror and saw that you couldn't really tell I was diapered. I took a deep breath, opened the bathroom door, and entered my fate in the living room.

The girl next door wasn't in the living room when I returned, so I sat down on the couch and waited for a bit. To be completely honest, I wasn't in a big hurry to find this woman and start whatever "punishment" she had planned. I figured if I sat here quietly, she'd just forget about me. But still, the diapers that were stacked on the other side of the room just glared at me in their brightly colored packaging, causing the fire in my stomach to only intensify.

I wondered what sort of punishment was coming my way. I laughed to myself. Maybe she was going to spank me. I shook my head at my male inhibitions coming out at this moment. This wasn't some kinky fantasy. This was far from that: this was torture. This was a nightmare.

For a second, I considered just leaving the room and going to my house, packing up, and living life on the lamb. But the idea of sacrificing over $100 worth of diapers was painful. Plus, I had seen the television show COPS and didn't think that a massive manhunt for a "diaper thief" was worth the trouble.

"Are you all set?" The girl next door asked, scaring me for a second. I looked up at her. She was holding a piece of paper in her hand and had changed her clothes. Right now, she was wearing jeans and a tee-shirt.

"Um… yeah," I said softly, my throat dry. "Yes."

"Good." The girl next door sat in the chair opposite of me and looked down at her paper. She paused for a moment, then looked up. "You know, you really should make sure you're always wearing diapers when you're in my house."

I just stared at her as she continued.

"You are incontinent. And I know that's stressful," the gril next door raised her voice when I started to speak up. "But you have to make sure you're wearing your protection when you're in my house. The last thing you want is to ruin the carpets or the couch. Right?"

"Yes, but…" I paused for a moment, realizing that I might have dug myself into more of a hole. On the one hand, my story had been shifting to the point where I had claimed I had bladder issues. On the other hand, I didn't want to tell the girl next door that I liked wearing diapers. Maybe I could just focus on minimizing the story a bit. Indeed there had to be a different kind of incontinence, right? Like perhaps I could convince her that I only had slight incontinence that impacted me during times of high stress or something.

I decided to try that. "It's really more of a stress thing." I needed to do some research when I left this stupid place.

She smiled softly. "I'm a doctor. I totally understand." The girl next door looked like she was sympathetic towards my predicament but then looked at the sheet of paper in her hand. "Here's a list of chores that need to be done around this house." She thrust the paper into my hand. "There is a toolbox in the closet over there that you might find useful, and don't pretend to be a bumbling idiot. I've seen you fixing the exterior of your house, so I know you can do these things."

I nodded as she left the room. I gave the diapers in the corner of the room one last glance, then looked down at the list in my hands.

The list was long, and judging by the time of day, this would take at least five days to finish. The first set of chores were simple things like dusting and vacuuming. But then things got more complicated with gutter clearing and repainting the shed. There were even groceries on the list and party planning tasks. It looked like the girl next door was throwing a party, and she needed help in the kitchen. I sighed and sat down, my diaper crinkling as it shifted a bit. Ugh. This would be over sooner if I got to work.

So, I stood up and decided I would check as many of the easy tasks off the list as possible. I took one last look at the stack of diapers that stood mocking me from the corner and crinkled my way out of the room.

***

It turns out the girl next door's name was Valerie, and she was a stickler for things being done a certain way. As I stood over the sink washing dishes, she crept up behind me and pointed out that I was missing spots on the plates. When I pointed out that I was just going to be putting everything into the dishwasher, she reminded me this was a punishment, not a lazy day in the sun.

"Right, but the dishwasher will take care of most of the tough spots," I pointed out.

"We can always just do what I asked you to do because you broke into my house," Valerie said plainly before leaving the room.

That snark set the tone for the rest of the day.

While mopping the floor, I made sure to get every spot. While cleaning the top of her high arched ceilings, I made sure to get all the cobwebs. I lifted the carpets, moved the couches, cleaned the outside of the stainless steel trash cans. I was even on my hands and knees scrubbing the interior and exterior of the stove.

While we went through all of this back and forth, I was extremely self-conscious about the fact that I really needed to use the restroom. The last thing I wanted to do was waddle around the house in an extreemly full diaper, even if Valerie pretended to be okay with my "condition." But the back of my mind was telling me I needed to be careful. Me and my dumb self had told Valerie that I was incontinent. She probably didn't expect that I would be using the restroom while I was in her house. But Valerie wasn't leaving my vicinity anytime soon.

"Are you okay?" She asked me as I looked around the room tentatively.

"Yes," I nodded. "Just wondering… where is your restroom?"

"Restroom?" she raised her eyebrow at me. "What do you need that for?"

I froze for a moment, not expecting that direct feedback. If anything, I thought Valerie would want me to use the restroom. After a quick pause, I responded. "In case I feel myself having to use the restroom."

"But you're incontinent," Valerie said. "And you seem to be using diapers to deal with that condition. Surely you don't un-tape yourself every time you're headed to the toilet?"

I paused. I hadn't anticipated her probing and she was making great points. Do people with bladder issues take their diapers on and off to use the restroom? That did seem wasteful, even with the innovation of hook and loop tape diapers. "Well, I'd rather use the toilet if I can. Maybe if I could not wear the diapers while in the house…."

"Not gonna happen. I can't afford you ruining the floors. It's unsanitary."

"Oh come on," I scoffed. "I promise if I feel the need to go -"

"No," Valerie put a hand up. "I'm not having this conversation. Unless you're about to tell me you're one of those sickos who enjoy wearing diapers for fun." She laughed to herself, and I heard her disappear up the steps.

I wanted a moment, walked to the nearest bathroom, and tugged on the handle.

It was locked.

The pit of my stomach seized up. She had actually locked the bathroom door to stop me from using the restroom. I gave it a few moments and tried another bathroom. Locked.

I didn't understand what was going on here. Surely Valerie didn't want me to actually use my diapers. Wouldn't she be grossed out by that idea? But she's a doctor, so she's probably seen this before. But then again, why lock the toilets. I would hope she didn't want a grown-ass man waddling around the house in a full diaper while doing her chores for her.

I grumbled, returned to the living room, and began dusting under the piano, cringing as my bladder ached. I hated doing these useless chores for Valerie. Every moment I bent down to dust more areas and wipe down surfaces, my bladder just ached and throbbed. I almost doubled over in pain as I replaced the pokers by the fireplace.

"Is everything okay?" Valerie's voice caused me to jump and fall backward. My bladder took that opportunity to give one final cramp and release the flood into the diaper. Valerie stared at me as I felt several emotions at once. The front of my diaper got warm and squishy, and that feeling transferred towards the middle and the back. My abdomen felt better as relief also swept through me. I hadn't expected this to ever happen in my lifetime, but I had solidly wet my pink unicorn diaper in front of the girl next door.

Later that night, I would be at home, replaying this moment in my head over and over as my brain did this horrible thing and insisted that this wasn't as bad as it seemed. My brain would ask me what would have happened if she had checked my diaper right then and there, asked me if I needed a change, and proceeded to change me on the floor. She'd make me lie back and lean over me, wrinkling her nose as she remarked how full my diaper was, squishing it under her thin, delicate fingers. My penis would shudder under that soft, dominant, sensual moment, waiting for what would come next.

She'd untape the diaper, remark at the wetness and imply that I'd need thicker diapers next time. She'd wipe me down, get every nook and cranny, and then dust powder on me before taping me into a new thicker diaper for the rest of the day. She'd give me a slight teasing look as she pats the front of my diaper, reminding me to come to her the next time I need a change to come straight to her.

But then reality would sink in.

While at the house earlier in the day, I had told the girl next door, Valerie, that I needed to change. She, in all her coldness had gone to the diaper tower and inspected the packages and handed me another pink diaper, with the unicorns on it and said I could change in the living room while she went back upstairs. She left a plastic bag, some baby lotion and some baby wipes on the coffee table before leaving the room.

The cold, clinical nature of this entire process really caused what could have been a fantasy moment to feel horrible. The room was cold. I had to stand against the wall to tape the new diaper. It felt like I was in a hospital room with how sterile this moment was. As I sprinkled power on myself and put the last of the tapes on, I felt miserable, the opposite of how I usually felt when I put on one of my favorite diapers.

As I waddled over to the trashcan to drop the extremely bright diaper into the toilet, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and paused. There I stood, my colorful, pink diaper on full display, clashing against the black and white motif in the room. I cursed at myself for getting into this position and decided at that moment that I'd do a week of this, and then we'd be done. There was no fucking way this was going to last longer than that. This woman could have her fun, we'd talk, and I'd never have to see her again.

But my brain couldn't help but linger back to the last 24 hours. The girl next door had demanded I wear diapers, and here I was, diapered in her house.

How's that for an incomplete fantasy?

But what I didn't realize was that things could get worse, especially at the party this upcoming Friday.