Shrinking [Tier 3 Exclusive] (Patreon)

She’s getting fussy. Well, fussier - she’s not at her fussiest just yet. Which is good; the last thing anyone wants is a full-on temper tantrum.

“Is something the matter?” I ask. Translated: I can sense your mood is changing. Is that something we can address now? Or is it something we have to address later?

“No,” she says timidly. She blushes a little, probably unaware of how obvious it was.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, uh…”

“Did you wet yourself?”

“Daddy!” She immediately realizes she betrayed herself. If she didn’t like me asking her - aloud in a public place - if she had wet herself, then it probably wasn’t a wise move to call me ‘Daddy’ in public. Her face is even more red.

“That wasn’t an answer.”

I’d like to think I’m as cautious as I should be. We’re walking down a busy street, and there are a lot of people around us. But I think there’s enough space to ask her things like that. Nobody’s near us long enough, and they’re certainly not paying attention. Even if they were - what are they going to do about it?

“Well…”

“Don’t try and make excuses or downplay it, Kitten. Why don’t you just give me a direct answer.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

She sighs. She’s flustered, and I love seeing her flustered. “Yes...I am wet.”

“How wet?”

‘Da-” she cuts herself off before she can finish the word.

“Go on. You can tell me.”

“Why?” she asks softly. “Why do I have to tell you right now?”

“We can go into that shop right there,” I say, pointing to a small quiet bookstore. “I could ask you in there instead.”

Her eyes follow my finger into the large window of the bookstore, seeing that there’s just a few customers milling about. Less people, for sure - but it’d almost be guaranteed that they’d hear every word of their conversation.

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Okay then. So, how wet are you? Or do I need to check for myself?”

“No, please...no.” A few deep breaths. “I’m...pretty wet.”

“When did that happen?”

“Ten minutes ago?”

“While we were in the toy store?”

“Yes…”

I laugh. “Seems fitting, doesn’t it? Just another toddler running around a toy store in pissy diapers.”

“I couldn’t hold it,” she scoffs.

“You can never seem to hold it anymore. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were forgetting how to use the potty completely.”

“No...not true! I just used the potty this morning!” She lets out a little gasp immediately after, slapping her hand over her mouth. Instant regret for having said the word ‘potty’ so loud.

I shoot her a critical look. While potty privileges haven’t exactly been revoked, I have been strongly discouraging her from using it while we’re both at home.

“Sorry.” She says it so silently that she may have just been mouthing the word. “I was just worried that if I didn’t I would end up...having an accident while we were out.”

“But you did,” I laugh. “So what good did that do?”

“Uh…” She knows that I already know the reason, but that’s never a reason for her not to say it anyways. “It would’ve been a different kind of accident.”

“Be more specific, Kitten.”

The conversation is interrupted by a sudden look of fear on her face. Down the street, a cluster of  young adults heads towards us. They look to be close to the same age as Kitten, though younger than myself. I’m curious if she knows any of them. When I look back to her face, I can see that she’s scanning them for the same reason.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” I say. “They don’t know you’ve wet your diapers.”

“Dad…” She sighs and starts again: “Can you not...say that?”

I laugh. I want to say more. I want to finish our conversation about why she felt the need to use the potty this morning. Hell, I want to pull the back of her pretty yellow sundress up and check her diaper right in front of them.

For now, I remain a gentleman.

We pass by them with only a few polite nods. Assumedly, they didn’t know her and she didn’t know them. I’m a little disappointed.

She sighs in relief, but we’re back to where we were a few moments ago. “Why did you use the potty this morning?”

“Really?” she scoffs.

“I don’t like your tone, Kitten.”

“I just...don’t want to say it out loud.”

“Isn’t it a shame, then, that we didn’t have this conversation before we left the house?”

“But…” She knew better than to continue this argument. Whether she had a valid point or not was irrelevant. “I went to the potty because I didn’t want to...do more than just wet myself.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Say it.”

She blurted out: “I didn’t want to poop my pants, Daddy! Happy now?”

That little outburst had turned more than a few heads, and I could almost see her body shrivel into a tiny little ball. She was a beautiful shade of fuschia.

“Thank you,” I say. “Was that so hard?”

She fires an absolutely rotten glare at me.

“You’ve earned a swat on your little behind for that, by the way.”

“What? But...what for?”

“You can’t tell me that little outburst of yours didn’t have some attitude behind it.”

“But...I just…”

“Shall we make it two?”

“I didn’t mean to…”

“Okay. Two then.”

Wisely, she lets it go.

We’re approaching the end of the shopping area, and soon it’ll be time to turn around and walk back the same way we came.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

It doesn’t reduce the number of times I need to paddle her bottom later, but it's still appreciated.

“Will we...be done soon?” she asks.

“We’ll be heading back soon. Not much longer, I suppose. Why?”

“I’ll just have to…” she trails off, just mouthing the words.

“Come on,” I say, likely sounding as frustrated as I feel. “You need to just say things.”

“I’ll prolly wet myself again.”

I smile. It’s a subtle thing - I wonder if it’d be obvious to anyone else, the way that her tone and inflection changes as she starts to feel smaller and smaller. I don’t always know what’s going to trigger her feeling little like that. I imagine it was somewhere within the combination of walking around with me in a wet diaper, having embarrassed herself with her outburst, and the knowledge that she was going to get her bottom smacked later.

“Didn’t I tell you? You insisted that you were going to be able to hold it like a big girl if I got you the bigger-sized coffee this morning. You’ve already had one accident this morning. Which I already feel is one more accident than a big girl would’ve had.”

“I can hold it a little longer,” she says quietly.

“Are you sure?”

She nods.

“You are wearing a diaper.”

“I know,” she says. “But...I worry that if I go again it’s gonna leak…”

“Your diapers can hold it.” I wasn’t sure if that was true or not, but I’m sure she’d be fretting about it enough without my help anyways.

“I’d like to go in here,” I say, pointing out a small apparel store. “Think you can hold off on flooding your diaper again while we’re here?”

She bashfully nods. “Yes, Daddy.” She doesn’t even stop herself from saying it this time. She’s slowly falling into her little space. She’s shrinking.

I love it.

Without even being asked to, she puts her hand into mine so that I’m holding it. I tighten my grip. I’m not ashamed to admit that there’s little in this world I love more than feeling her small hand in mine.

I’m taking my time, as I usually do. Perhaps if she hadn’t used her diaper at all, and had told me well in advance of her first wetting that she had to go - maybe then I would’ve made some sort of effort to move things along. As she’s already proven that she’s just an overgrown toddler, what’s ten more minutes in this store? And the next? And the next after that?

She’s getting squirmy. Little hops from one foot to the other. Occasionally her little hand grips mine a little harder. Little flashes of panic in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says.

I don’t want to play this game again. I let it go this time. I already know how badly she has to go. In fact, I’d wager that I can tell better than she can. I can read all of her mannerisms like a book.

“Abigail?” Another woman’s voice from behind us. I release her hand the same moment she pulls her hand away like it was on a stove.

It’s an absolutely amazing transformation. In less than a second, Kitten - the same little girl who just wet her diaper and then clung to my hand - had transformed into the professional adult Abigail..

“Monica, what a surprise to see you here.”

“Likewise. How are you? Is this your…”

“Boyfriend,” she says. She’s called me a lot of things, but I’m not sure I ever heard her use that word before. “Will, this is Monica - from my firm. Monica, this is Will.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” I say, giving her a firm handshake.

“Likewise,” she says. Is she charmed? I’d like to think so, but what do I know?

“It’s just such a beautiful day out,” Monica says. I can’t decide if her tone is fake and cloying, or if this woman just always sounds like that. “I had to get downtown. And what a surprise - running into you. I almost felt bad about saying hello - you two looked quite cute holding each other’s hands.”

“Ah, well, it’s good to see you,” Kitten says, flashing a fake smile of her own that would’ve convinced me too had I not known her better.

Still, while Monica might be fooled that she’s in the presence of Abigail, I know better. There are still the little shifts from side to side. The way that her fingers wiggle and twitch. The nervous glances I catch when Monica looks away for a moment.

I suspect Kitten is holding on to her bladder for dear life. I can see the subtle signs of panic in her eyes. Monica has to be completely unaware, though I wish that wasn’t the case. I’d love it if everyone was aware of Kitten’s dilemma.

Her legs slowly drift apart. I know this stance. She’s going to do it - right there, as she talks to her co-worker. This all feels too perfect. I’m not sure how she’s remaining so composed right now, because I’m not the one who’s about to wet my diaper - for the second time - and I’m just barely keeping it together. I want to laugh; cheer her on.

“...and they keep saying they’re going to file the reports, but I never see it happen you know?” Monica is talking shop. I’m not paying attention at all.

“Yeah,” Kitten says with a nod. She’s clearly not invested in this conversation either.

I can pinpoint the exact moment it happens. I see it in her eyes; the way that her knees bend just the tiniest bit; the way her lips quiver. She’s doing it - Kitten is pissing her diaper again, right there in the middle of this store while she talks to her co-worker. If only Monica knew. What would she say? What would she do?

I could use a hand in changing the little brat. Monica, a little older and a little taller, does have a strong maternal aura about her - I bet she’d know how to deal with a big baby like my Kitten.

“Well I don’t stand here, prattling on about office politics,” Monica said. Had she been? “Why don’t you two enjoy the rest of your day and I’ll see you in the office next week.”

“Oh, no worries,” Kitten says with a warm smile. “It was nice seeing you! I’ll see you then, too!”

I offer a friendly nod and wave to Monica as she departs, disappearing into the roving crowds of shoppers.

Almost immediately, Kitten releases a long steady sigh of relief.

“Poor timing for an accident,” I say.

She blushes again. “Daddy, no…”

While I didn’t have many doubts, her tone and body language assures me that the version of “Abigail” that just spoke with Monica was, in fact, a big act. Kitten is right back to being the little girl she was shrinking into just minutes ago.

“But I know you,” I say as I casually flip through some shirts on a rack. “I can tell when it’s an accident and when…”

“No,” she says softly. “Please don’t say it.”

“...when you purposefully want to use your diaper.”

She lets out a little squeak; an almost pleasurable little noise. We both know why she did that when she did. She wanted to. She wanted that thrill. I hoped it was everything she had wanted it to be.

“Were you a naughty little girl just then?”

“No…”

I gave her the look that I liked to call the Daddy Knows Best - a sort of head tilt with raised eyebrows.

“Okay,” she said, backpedaling a little. “Maybe, uhm, a little?”

“Just a little?”

She huffs, clearly not wanting to have to say these things out loud while people walk around us. But she knows me well, and she knows that I’m going to badger her until she does.

“I...really wanted to wet myself while she talked to me,” she said. “So, uhm, I did it?”

“And did you like it, Kitten?”

She gives an enthusiastic nod. “But…”

“But?”

“Daddy,” she says, her voice getting softer again, “I think I, uhm, might be...leaking?”

I look down at her bare legs below the hem of the sundress. There wasn’t any noticeable leaking to my eyes, though that didn’t mean she was wrong. At this point she knew better than I did.

The temptation is strong to just flip up the bottom of her dress right there - in the center of the bustling store - so that I could inspect her twice-soaked diaper. I’m sure all the other patrons would get a kick out of that. Hell, maybe Monica was still wandering about and would get the chance to see her co-worker’s pissy diaper getting checked.

For now, I brush away the less-than-realistic fantasies and clutch Kitten’s hand, and we make a swift departure. We’re back on the street again, but we’re not there for long - I pick the first side-street that I see and I turn onto it, gently pulling her behind me.

“Daddy, is this the way back to the car?”

I don’t answer immediately, as I’m scanning the area. Unlike the main thoroughfare, there’s barely anyone at all over here. No shops, just residences and parked cars. There’s a few alleys that would probably meet the needs I’m looking for, but the large patch of green at the end of the street, what appears to be a park, looks even better.

“Not yet,” I say. “Come this way first.”

She doesn’t question me or complain. Abigail? Abigail would do either, maybe both, of those things. Kitten is a doll that just lets herself be taken where I want to go.

“Daddy,” she says, her voice a little louder now. A little bolder and a little more childlike - perhaps on account of nobody else being around to overhear her. “My diaper is very wet.”

“I know, Kitten.

“I need to be, uhm, changed?”

“Well, we didn’t bring the diaper bag with us today, sweetheart.”

She makes a little sound. Maybe it's an affirmative grunt or a moan, I’m not completely sure.

We’re in the park now. It’s not too big - just half a block of green grass, a little walking trail, and a grove of trees that looks perfect for when you want to do something naughty out in public.

“There,” I say, pointing out the trees. “Let’s go over there.”

No sooner than when we’re in the grove’s dark shade, I have the back of her dress up as she instinctively leans forward to allow for me to check her diaper. We had a little tiff this morning regarding whether she should be allowed to wear one of her more discreet pull-ups or if she should have to wear one of her thicker diapers. I suspect that we’re both happy that I won that argument. While some moisture has been trying to escape from the legbands of her current diaper, it’s likely nothing compared to the disaster that two heavy wettings in a pull-up would’ve been.

“Is it wet, Daddy?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

She giggles. Music to my ears.

“It’s not too bad,” I say. “We should be able to get back to the car without too much trouble.”

“But...Daddy?”

“Yes?”

She doesn’t say anything else. I’ve put her dress back down, but she’s still leaning forward. She takes a cautious step back, pressing her soggy bottom against the front of my pants.

It shouldn’t surprise me after all this time, but it’s still a little shock when she shows me how horny she gets when falling deeper into her role as Kitten.

“Here” I ask. “Now?”

Normally, I’d be the one making a suggestion like that. And it wasn’t that long ago that she was too bashful to even say the word “Daddy” aloud when strangers were near us. Now? She’s grinding her diaper against my growing erection.

“Is...that okay?”

I look around. Is it? I see nobody even close to us in the park and nobody on the sidewalks that pass by the grove. The coast seems clear.

I lift the back of her dress up, and both of my hands are on her diaper. I start by gently squeezing it, feeling how firm and bloated it is. But I can’t help myself, the feeling of her thoroughly soaked diaper in my hands triggers my most primal impulses and my grip tightens. Her warm piss leaks from the diaper and trickles down her leg as I squeeze it. She moans, feeling the stream on her skin.

She’s completely shrunk now. This is how it usually happens - she stubbornly, and/or timidly, drags her feet for a bit, insisting that she’s not actually playing the same game that I am. Then, suddenly, she’s a giant toddler, and nothing is going to convince her otherwise.

Her thumb is in her mouth now. It’s almost dangerous how deep into that space she is now. A marching band could bust through this grove right now and she’d probably happily wave to them while her dress was pulled up and her thumb was lodged in her mouth.

Her diapered bottom desperately wiggles and grinds against me. It’s hungry; she’s wanting more. It has me a little flustered, to be honest. This little side quest into the park was meant mostly for me to tease her and to get a better look at the damage done. Quickly, it’s becoming something else, and a decision needs to be made as to whether I put the brakes on, or I let this run its course.

I take another careful look around us. Nobody. I’m almost disappointed. Couldn’t somebody be taking a casual walk near the park so that I can be prevented from going through with my bad idea?

Okay, fine.

I unbuckle my belt and unzip my pants. She hears this, of course, and she’s very excited by it.

“Daddy! Really?”

“Yes,” I say. “But you have to be a good girl.”

She is nodding so intensely that she looks like an adorable little bobblehead.

“If you see anyone,” I continue, “we’ll have to stop.”

It’s so much easier than I think it’s going to be. She leans forward, her hands braced against the side of a tree for support. My cock is out of my pants and I carefully pull down her diaper just enough so that I can slip into her warm wet pussy.

She doesn’t just moan, she practically screams. I want to warn her that this was the opposite of what I just asked of her, but I can’t get the words out. So, instead, I just fuck her.

Were we anywhere else, at any other time, I’d probably care about the quality of the sex. She does, after all, make the most angelic noises when she’s coming. That’s not what this moment is about. Right now, she wants exactly what I’m giving her: the reality of being used like a diapered fuck-toy whenever Daddy wants. Whenever she wants, even.

It doesn’t take too long, thankfully. In just a handful of minutes I erupt into her, filling her completely. I waste no time in pulling out and then pulling her diaper back up - letting everything I just put into her slowly slide back out into her pants.

I put my cock away and fix my pants. She’s far too gone to fix her dress, so I do it for her.

“Da…” she says, followed by a few silly baby noises. The poor pathetic little thing. I wonder what the world looks like to her right now.

Another glance around the park - it seems like the coast is clear. The perfect crime, so to speak. I’m both thankful and annoyed. I’d have loved to have added the memory of some innocent hiker catching sight of us in that moment.

“We should go,” I say.

“Mmm,” she moans. She’s bubbly and floating. I grab hold of her hand to make sure she doesn’t just float away.

And, with that, it's back to the busy street again. Back to being amongst all the people. It feels like there are even more people here now than there were just before we took our little detour to the park, and they all seem to be heading in the direction we just came from. We’re walking against traffic, and for a block, I don’t even look back to Kitten as we walk, I just feel her hand in mine as I lead the way.

When I finally do glance back, I see that her thumb is still stuck in her mouth. It’s cute, though I wonder how she’ll feel about being seen like this later on when this high wears off. I don’t stop her, though.

I’m curious, though, about how other people view this situation as they walk past us. This cute woman being pulled around by the hand while she sucks her thumb; do they look to see if she’s also wearing a plump diaper? Can they see the wet trail running down her leg? Every once in a while I catch the gaze of a stranger who watches Kitten for a second or two longer than anyone else. I want to stop them and ask them what they thought about it. I’m dying to know.

“Daddy,” she says, “are we going home?”

“We’re on our way back to the car, Kitten.”

“Will you fuck me again?”

“In the car?”

“Uhm…” She’s not even sure.

“When we get home,” I say. We’re talking out loud. People walk right past us, either unaware of the conversation altogether or just not caring. It hardly seems possible. How is this not the most exciting thing happening on this entire street?

“Daddy?” she asks again.

“Yes, Kitten?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” And I mean that.

“Do you think you could carry me?”

I glance across the street where a young father carries his baby - his actual baby. I laugh at the thought that she, in all likelihood, saw the same thing and wondered why she couldn’t have the same thing.

And you know what? Why not?

In lieu of answering her question, I scoop her up in one fell swoop - one arm under her knees and the other around her back, cradling her in front of me. This isn’t the best carry, and I’d be very impressed with myself if I can keep it up all the way back to the car. But the look she gives me in this moment is everything I need. Contentedness. Even with her sundress flapping around as we walk, giving eagle-eyed passers-by a clear shot of her diaper, she couldn’t be happier.

I tease her sometimes, saying that if she intends on staying so small all the time, one day she’s going to just stay that way.

I don’t think I’d mind that.