San Bambina Chapter One (Patreon)

I know some of you have been waiting a while for this one... hopefully it lives up to expectations

I hope everyone's having a great month so far. If I don't get a chance to speak to you before then, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all of you. 

The nursery was a world of fuzzy, pastel pinks, yellows and blues, soft tinkling music, and omnipresent smiling cartoon faces. Staci felt oppressed by it’s cushy infantilism, like she’d suddenly been sucked into a parallel universe of soft babyish comfort that existed solely to make her feel as small and helpless and dependant as possible. Just a few weeks ago, she’d been an average American woman in her twenties, free and independent and in way too much debt, producing a weekly column that didn’t get many clicks... but she had slowly, steadily built an audience, until, finally, she was sure she was just one major scoop away from the big leagues.

Now she was in the nursery. Still writing, still pounding out articles a word at a time. Back in New York, she’d done most of her writing sipping coffee at trendy cafes, at her lovely big desk in the corner next to the window of the apartment she loved and could barely afford, or sometimes sitting on a bench in the park on a hot summer day.

Staci did most of her writing in the nursery now. Stretched out on her tummy on the fuzzy pink carpet, her large breasts strained against the fabric of her soft, tight purple t-shirt. The diaper she wore was an absurd, adult-sized parody of the real disposable baby diapers she sometimes saw in ads on TV the seat absurdly bulky, jutting out behind her like a watermelon, the padding between her thighs so thick she couldn’t bring them together. The only other article of clothing she wore was a pair of booties on her feet, which wagged listlessly in the air behind her, her diaper crinkling ever so softly in time with her movements.

The sun sets on another day in San Bambina,she wrote, fingers clacking against the keyboard at regular intervals, and on your author’s tenth day enjoying the hospitality of the state. She rolled her eyes, absently reaching back to tugat her diaper uncomfortably. My hosts have made my stay most most pleasent, she typed, and I’m fortunate enough to be one of the few outsiders to be allowed to truly immerse myself in the Culture of San Bambina and in the lifestyle of it’s young women.

Staci rolled her eyes, wondering if the sarcasm was coming off. Eventually, she dismissed the concern altogether... the propaganda ministry would simply re-write any section they deemed unacceptable, for any reason, anyway, so all she had to do was avoid being too openly derisive about her host country to avoid any potential punishments. As it stood now, if she played along, she could go home in a year-- it had been made abundantly clear to Staci that if she rocked the boat, she could very well find herself a permanent citizen.

So for now, there was nothing she could do but play along, be a good girl, and write her reports. She was already behind on the first one, and she’d have to bare down if she wanted to make her deadline... but she found herself distracted by the slowly building cramp in her guts. It had been getting worse for the last hour or so-- ever since her new ‘mommy,’ Mary Beth Whitler, had forcibly spoon fed her a dinner of bland oatmeal and cool, slimy prunes for dinner. Staci had resisted, of course, but being strapped into a huge high-chair, there wasn’t much she could do but move her face back and forth, her lips and chin growing messier by the minute. Mary didn’t quit until Staci had relented and eaten up the whole thing... she’d been nursing a gassy discomfort in her belly ever since. Mommy had set her up with her lap top and admonished her to get cracking on her homework.

A steady stream of burps and farts did nothing to relieve Staci’s discomfort, and before long, it was distressingly obvious that she had a major BM brewing. She managed to grind out three paragraphs, but her distress was only getting worse, her farts wetter and more embarrassing. It was affecting her concentration, and she quickly reached her limit. There was no point in even asking for the bathroom-- she’d already had the “you’re wearing your toilet, sweetie,” conversation more times then she could remember.

So instead, she did what would have been unthinkable a couple of weeks ago-- Staci lifted her hips, sticking her pampered butt up in the air behind her, furrowed her brow, and started pushing out a major dump into her diapers.

“Hhhhuuuhhh...” Staci grunted softly to herself her efforts rewarded with a series of sticky, gassy squelches. Her buttocks parted to accommodate a massive, semi-soft load, which accumulated in her diaper in a big, gooey pile. The seat behind her expanded slowly, bulging outwards with each squishy, gassy emission. Before long, Staci’s pampers were totally packed with poop.

Once relieved, she stretched herself out on her tummy with a sigh. She felt better now that the crampy pressure in her belly had been relieved... but the diaper, thick as it was, could only do so much to contain the stench, which soon began to emerge. Between the heavy, sticky weight pressing down against her rump and the worsening stink, Staci soon found it hard to concentrate. Reluctantly, she lifted her head and called for assistance:

“Mommy!” she cried, hating how childish and silly she sounded. But she’d learned over the past couple of weeks that if she wanted to get things done around here, she was going to have to swallow her pride and play by the rules.

“What’s up, sweetie?” Mary asked when she arrived in the nursery, perfectly dressed and made up as always. Dressed in the old fashioned (but appealing) style popular in San Bambina, she looked like she’d walked out of an old movie-- Grace Kelly playing June Cleaver.

“Uh... Ma-ma?” Staci began, reddening. She still found the semi-infantile patter she was expected to use when addressing ‘adults’ embarrassing, but there was no point in being self-conscious in front of the woman who’d been wiping her butt and changing her diapers for the past few weeks... and would be doing so for at least the next year. “I-- I had an accident... can-- can you change my diapers?”

“Hmmm,” Mary said, smiling wickedly, “let me ask you, honey... how’s your little assignment going?”

“Uh... well, I’m about half-way done, mommy,” Staci said, trying to sound as humble and contrite as possible.

“Hmmm,” Mary said again, squatting down to pat the seat of Staci’s diapers, making the young woman wince as it squished against her butt ever so slightly. “Let’s have a look-see, shall we?” she asked rhetorically, reaching out and hooking a forefinger into the waistband of Stacie’s diaper and pulling it out ever so slightly so she could peek inside. “Oh my... that is quite a mess, isn’t it, darling?” She crinkled her nose haughtily, making Staci blush and glance away, the stench instantly growing stronger. “Tell you what... you call me when you’re finished and I promise I’ll get you a fresh diaper... OK, darling?”

Staci frowned and huffed, but turned her attention back to her screen without a word, knowing from the superior smirk on her ‘Mommy’s’ face that she wouldn’t be changing her mind... and arguing with her was risking a spanking, or maybe an even more embarrassing punishment.

Mary watched her return to her work with a smile before exiting the room and closing the door behind her, trapping the stink in.

Thanks, Mom, Staci thought with a huff. Cupping her cheek with her hand, the pretty blonde took a sip from her bottle, sucking and swallowing a few mouthfuls of juice before she returned to telling the international audience a highly sanitized version of her experiences in San Bambina thus far. She crinkled her nose... the load in her diaper was really starting to stink.

Sighing, she pecked away at the keyboard, her mind drifting back to the beginning...