QH Archives: Sissy Prissy (Patreon)

She was insistent on wearing her big-girl panties while we ran errands today. And by "insistent," I mean that she practically threw a temper tantrum when I suggested that she at least wear some of her pull-ups.

I let her wear the panties - though I don't want you to think that it was because I had relented. No, I figured that this could be a valuable opportunity for my silly Prissy to learn a lesson. She thought that she'd have it her way, and I'd like to let her think that for the time being.

We went to the grocery store and the library, as had been our original plan. To her credit, she had seemingly managed to avoid having one of her little accidents in her panties. However, I wished to test the boundaries of her stubbornness, and decided to add some more errands to the agenda.

I swear that I caught a look of surprise on her face as we pulled into the parking lot of the home goods store. Prissy knew me well enough to know that I could easily spend hours here toiling about and dreaming up new arrangements for the house.

I gave her one more chance to save face, and asked if she needed her pull ups. She declined. I even asked if she wanted to use the restroom. Of course I wasn't actually going to let her sit on the potty, but I wondered if she'd at least bite when offered the illusion of being a big girl. Again, she declined.

We had only been in the store for only 10 minutes when I spotted her squirming out of the corner of my eye. I said nothing and acted like I hadn't noticed. Five minutes later, as I heard the slightest of whines escape her pouty lips, I asked her what the problem was. She shook her head profusely and insisted that nothing was the matter. Everything was fine, she claimed.

If everything was fine, I wondered aloud, there'd be nothing wrong with me taking a peek at her big girl panties and seeing for myself, right? She blushed rather brightly and hemmed and hawed a bit too long about it before agreeing to let me check. But, she insisted, only if we could do it in private.

I agreed. While I had no objection to the other shoppers catching a glimpse of stubborn Prissy walking around with a wet bottom, I had something even better for them to see.

I led her to the store's restrooms, thankfully a single-occupant bathroom with a lock on the door. Within the same second that I had closed and locked the door, I had pulled up her dress to look at her big-girl panties.

And what was it that I saw? A rather large wet spot between her legs that had slowly begun to creep its way up her bottom. While she hadn't gone as far to fully wet herself, she had certainly been dribbling into her panties quite a bit.

She knew what I was going to say. She spoke first, admitting that maybe she wasn't ready for the big-girl panties after all. She'd take the pull-ups now.

But she was very surprised when I reached into my shoulder bag and revealed an actual diaper. It was one of the big ones, too. Whereas the pullups at least had some sort of discreteness in their fabric-like texture and slim size, the diapers were excessively bulky and wrapped in a loud crinkly plastic.

The pullups were off the table, I advised her. She lost that chance, and this was what she was left with. She still had a choice, of course: She could wear the diapers like the baby that she was, or we could continue shopping until she ended up pissing all over herself in public. She wisely, though unhappily, opted to take the diaper.

We were back in the store, mere minutes later. I was now leading her around the store by her hand. I set the pace, and she toddled behind me, every movement causing her bottom half to crinkle loudly. With every new aisle we ventured into, we were both left to wonder if the other customers could hear anything - and if they did, if they had any guess as to what they were hearing.

Silly Prissy, you know how she is - when reduced to wearing her big diapers, she lost all of her feistiness and stubbornness. I had magically taken years off her age with just a diaper.

Though, I should add, I didn't completely strip her of the big-girl panties she had been so adamant about earlier. She still wore them, inside of her diaper. And when she ended up having to wet her diapers like a baby, she would also be thoroughly saturating her panties. A poetic punishment, I thought. Something that I'd relish rubbing in her face later that day when it actually came time to change her - quite literally too.

Later, while she was over my knees and her bright red bottom faced up to me, she'd confess that she was just a little baby. She'd cry out that she needed to be kept in diapers. She was oh-so-sorry for ever thinking she could be a big girl.

I knew this, of course. But it was always nice to hear my silly Prissy say it herself.