getDare Truth or Dare - View Single Post - Fiction: The Eternal Diapering of Jenna Mason

SubbyAbi · 02-13-2024, 04:43 PM

I. Morning Routine

The sound of Taylor Swift spurred me awake, as it had so many mornings before. I'd set-up my phone to one of her songs, as a way to "start the morning off right". The idea was that I'd be so happy to hear the rousing bridge of Cruel Summer and would leap awake, ready to start the day. Instead, I found myself growing increasingly resentful towards what was once one of my favourite songs. My hands didn't need to hunt for the phone, they knew exactly where to find it and quickly shut Ms Swift up. We would meet again tomorrow for our daily battle.

I sighed and laid my head back against my pillow, enjoying the coldness of it. Perhaps I could just lay here all day, and let today be a wash. It was always tempting - being in bed was nice. I couldn't do that, however, I had already set myself a target for today and as much as the ceiling of my university dorm room captivated me; I knew I couldn't stare it at it forever. Today was the day I finally did it. Today was the day that I would spend a full day in diapers.

Yes, I'm fully aware what a weird thing that is to say. I've had an interest in diapers for as long as I can remember - I say "interest" and not "fetish", because "fetish" sounds creepy. When you think of "diaper fetish", you think of all the comedy movies that have made a joke about a disgusting old dude in a diaper and a bonnet. This isn't like that... Or, at least, I'm not ready to admit that I am the same as that creepy old dude. While the rest of my friends were discovering pornography for the first time, I was discovering videos of women being forced into diapers. It was all I fantasized about and it quickly became the only thing that I could get myself off to. I was excited to go to university for many reasons, but being able to order myself actual diapers was very close to the top of that list - and I had a crate arrive on my second day. Many fun days were spent in my room wearing, and wetting, my big, thick nappies. However, they had never left my room. I had been very strict about that.

Until now. I had been building up to this moment for a while, delaying it and delaying it. There was always an excuse - I needed to learn more about potential risk factors. I couldn't excuse it any longer, this had always been a huge fantasy and it was time that it became my reality.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the drawer beneath my bed and brushed aside some of the clothes that were covering up the plastic pink mass of diapers that had been stashed away. I pulled one out and took a deep breath. The word "BABY" stared back at me - if I were caught, it would be difficult to argue that I was wearing these for incontinence reasons. Four tapes later and I looked at my body in the full-length mirror on my wardrobe - a tall, slender baby girl looking back at me. My blonde hair was still a mess from sleeping and my small boobs were perked up, but it was impossible to focus on anything other than my padded crotch area. I smiled, enjoying how ridiculous I looked, before getting the rest of my outfit sorted.

This was a perfectly planned operation - there were no decisions to make, I'd made them all days ago. Some black tights held the diaper in place and a loose-fighting, lengthy maroon skirt went over those. The looseness ensured no shape exposure, the length reduced any risk of wind and the colour would offer subtle camouflage should a supernatural event lead to the tightening of the skirt. A slightly baggy top (to make sure the top of the skirt was covered at all times), a white bra and a white jumper completed the look. I wasn't going to win any fashion prizes, but I also wasn't going to lose my reputation today.

I took a few steps, listening to the crinkle that followed. It was impossible to make it go away fully, but it was certainly better with the tights holding it in place; and I knew that, as much as I hated it, nobody would ever think of it as anything but my tights chafing. A face full of foundation, a dash of mascara, some natural lipstick, a bit of blush and a white alice band - and my outfit was complete. I looked in the mirror and the adult baby was gone, Jenna Mason looked back at me; the respectable student with a slight crinkle in her step.

It was only 7.32am by the time I'd finished getting ready. Taylor had managed to get me going after all. It was difficult to find ways to keep me entertained in these moments of downtime. I tried scrolling through Twitter and Instagram and every other social media platform that existed, but there was only so much that you could find that was new. I'd recently taken to a new way of doing social media - finding a random tweet and then just stalking that person, doing a deep dive of their profile history to see what kind of person they really were. Today, I made a bad decision and ended up thirty tweets deep on a guy who seemingly only ever tweeted about Love Island. It wasn't a show that I watched, though I might as well have been watching it because I was well aware (at this point) of what everybody was up to.

"Well, well, well," I muttered to myself, as I finally found something interesting on Josh's profile.

As I eventually scrolled far enough back to a time long before the ongoing Love Island season had begun - I noticed how quickly the interactions on Josh's tweets faded. Anything with the show's hashtag would see likes in the triple figures - but a tweet from Josh celebrating his new tattoo, from a day before the season began? Nothing. No likes, no retweets, no comments. Everybody loved what he had to say about the sterilized world of reality TV, but nobody cared about him. He was proud of his arm and showed it to his hundreds of followers and not a single one of them could even pretend to be interested. I shrugged and liked the tweet, knowing that it would be lost among the seas of other likes that he had received today. Knowing, deep down, that it would change nothing in the long-run. It made me feel good, though.

8am. It was time to meet Juliet and get started with our day. I waddled to my door, the bulkiness in my pants reminding me what today was all about. Here goes nothing...

⦾⦾⦾

Author's Note

I've not really written anything like this before, so I'm a little bit nervous. I'm aware that this is a bit of a slow start and that anybody who reads this is probably going to be reading it one-handed and wondering when the good bits are going to happen. I have some exciting plans for this story, with lots of twists and turns - some of which has already been vaguely alluded to.

I'm going to try and get a chapter released at least every other day. I can't promise that, but I'm really excited about this at the moment, so that should be possible. Please let me know what you think!

02-13-2024, 04:43 PM	#1
SubbyAbi Junior Member Join Date: Feb 2024 Posts: 6	The Eternal Diapering of Jenna Mason I. Morning Routine The sound of Taylor Swift spurred me awake, as it had so many mornings before. I'd set-up my phone to one of her songs, as a way to "start the morning off right". The idea was that I'd be so happy to hear the rousing bridge of Cruel Summer and would leap awake, ready to start the day. Instead, I found myself growing increasingly resentful towards what was once one of my favourite songs. My hands didn't need to hunt for the phone, they knew exactly where to find it and quickly shut Ms Swift up. We would meet again tomorrow for our daily battle. I sighed and laid my head back against my pillow, enjoying the coldness of it. Perhaps I could just lay here all day, and let today be a wash. It was always tempting - being in bed was nice. I couldn't do that, however, I had already set myself a target for today and as much as the ceiling of my university dorm room captivated me; I knew I couldn't stare it at it forever. Today was the day I finally did it. Today was the day that I would spend a full day in diapers. Yes, I'm fully aware what a weird thing that is to say. I've had an interest in diapers for as long as I can remember - I say "interest" and not "fetish", because "fetish" sounds creepy. When you think of "diaper fetish", you think of all the comedy movies that have made a joke about a disgusting old dude in a diaper and a bonnet. This isn't like that... Or, at least, I'm not ready to admit that I am the same as that creepy old dude. While the rest of my friends were discovering pornography for the first time, I was discovering videos of women being forced into diapers. It was all I fantasized about and it quickly became the only thing that I could get myself off to. I was excited to go to university for many reasons, but being able to order myself actual diapers was very close to the top of that list - and I had a crate arrive on my second day. Many fun days were spent in my room wearing, and wetting, my big, thick nappies. However, they had never left my room. I had been very strict about that. Until now. I had been building up to this moment for a while, delaying it and delaying it. There was always an excuse - I needed to learn more about potential risk factors. I couldn't excuse it any longer, this had always been a huge fantasy and it was time that it became my reality. Taking a deep breath, I opened the drawer beneath my bed and brushed aside some of the clothes that were covering up the plastic pink mass of diapers that had been stashed away. I pulled one out and took a deep breath. The word "BABY" stared back at me - if I were caught, it would be difficult to argue that I was wearing these for incontinence reasons. Four tapes later and I looked at my body in the full-length mirror on my wardrobe - a tall, slender baby girl looking back at me. My blonde hair was still a mess from sleeping and my small boobs were perked up, but it was impossible to focus on anything other than my padded crotch area. I smiled, enjoying how ridiculous I looked, before getting the rest of my outfit sorted. This was a perfectly planned operation - there were no decisions to make, I'd made them all days ago. Some black tights held the diaper in place and a loose-fighting, lengthy maroon skirt went over those. The looseness ensured no shape exposure, the length reduced any risk of wind and the colour would offer subtle camouflage should a supernatural event lead to the tightening of the skirt. A slightly baggy top (to make sure the top of the skirt was covered at all times), a white bra and a white jumper completed the look. I wasn't going to win any fashion prizes, but I also wasn't going to lose my reputation today. I took a few steps, listening to the crinkle that followed. It was impossible to make it go away fully, but it was certainly better with the tights holding it in place; and I knew that, as much as I hated it, nobody would ever think of it as anything but my tights chafing. A face full of foundation, a dash of mascara, some natural lipstick, a bit of blush and a white alice band - and my outfit was complete. I looked in the mirror and the adult baby was gone, Jenna Mason looked back at me; the respectable student with a slight crinkle in her step. It was only 7.32am by the time I'd finished getting ready. Taylor had managed to get me going after all. It was difficult to find ways to keep me entertained in these moments of downtime. I tried scrolling through Twitter and Instagram and every other social media platform that existed, but there was only so much that you could find that was new. I'd recently taken to a new way of doing social media - finding a random tweet and then just stalking that person, doing a deep dive of their profile history to see what kind of person they really were. Today, I made a bad decision and ended up thirty tweets deep on a guy who seemingly only ever tweeted about Love Island. It wasn't a show that I watched, though I might as well have been watching it because I was well aware (at this point) of what everybody was up to. "Well, well, well," I muttered to myself, as I finally found something interesting on Josh's profile. As I eventually scrolled far enough back to a time long before the ongoing Love Island season had begun - I noticed how quickly the interactions on Josh's tweets faded. Anything with the show's hashtag would see likes in the triple figures - but a tweet from Josh celebrating his new tattoo, from a day before the season began? Nothing. No likes, no retweets, no comments. Everybody loved what he had to say about the sterilized world of reality TV, but nobody cared about him. He was proud of his arm and showed it to his hundreds of followers and not a single one of them could even pretend to be interested. I shrugged and liked the tweet, knowing that it would be lost among the seas of other likes that he had received today. Knowing, deep down, that it would change nothing in the long-run. It made me feel good, though. 8am. It was time to meet Juliet and get started with our day. I waddled to my door, the bulkiness in my pants reminding me what today was all about. Here goes nothing... ⦾⦾⦾ Author's Note I've not really written anything like this before, so I'm a little bit nervous. I'm aware that this is a bit of a slow start and that anybody who reads this is probably going to be reading it one-handed and wondering when the good bits are going to happen. I have some exciting plans for this story, with lots of twists and turns - some of which has already been vaguely alluded to. I'm going to try and get a chapter released at least every other day. I can't promise that, but I'm really excited about this at the moment, so that should be possible. Please let me know what you think!