Dedicated to everyone who sent donations and bought comics-- Thanks you guys!
And now, the grand finale.
Major thanks to Pink Diapers for the art on this one, and what an incredible piece it is-- certainly one of the most explicit and embarrassing pieces of ABDL art one is likely to encounter in this or any other universe:
Thanks again PD , and thanks once more to all the other awesome artists who contributed to this project! You can check out Diaper Pins for more awesome art by Pink Diapers!
Chapter 5
Krystal napped fitfully, the combination of the castor oil and the hot, soapy water that had so recently been pumped up her butt, combine with the massive, fibrous lunch she’d been force fed, was gurgling away in her belly ominously. She remained bound to the bench, nude but for her bonnet and bib, the enema nozzle still firmly in place her hiney, keeping the mess she had brewing safely inside… for the moment, anyway.
While Chloe ran over to the club house to help her father greet the guests (and to help cover for the momentary absence of their stepmother), Carrie worked feverishly on her computer, quickly editing together a highlight reel of the footage they’d secretly been recording throughout the day.
Not that Krystal was aware of this—she was sleeping, dreaming that she was looking for the bathroom in a house where the hallways and doors were constantly shifting. She found herself growing more frantic, the pressure growing, her desperation increasing as she fumbled through endless corridors opening one bedroom or closet after another, her long, fruitless search destined to go on forever—or at least until she’d messed her pants. But somehow she never discovered a bathroom… and somehow, in defiance of all of the laws of nature, she never lost control, and she was starting to wonder if she was destined to wander these halls forever in a state of eternal intestinal distress.
Suddenly, she was rudely awakened by a sharp slap to her plump, jiggling backside. She gave a muffled howl from behind the pacifier that was still strapped into her mouth, her head shooting up, and was greeted by Carrie’s smiling face. “Up and at ‘em, lazy buns!” she chided sweetly.
Krystal frowned and groaned from behind her soother. She could still make out the brim of the bonnet in her peripheral vision, and her efforts to move were thwarted by the bonds at her wrists and ankles. Her bowels were gurgling and straining, and for a moment she was sure she was going to have an accident… but it was like there was something in the way… blocking it. With quivering lips, she gave her hips a slight wriggle, and became instantly aware of the thick nozzle still planted firmly in her butt. She watched Carrie walk slowly around the side of the bench until she couldn’t turn her head any further. Krystal cocked her ear, listening to her stepdaughter’s heels clacking loudly across the floor, until she reached the back. Sweat dribbled down her face and she wiggled her rump with involuntary nervousness, fully aware of the vulnerability of her position.
She felt Carrie take hold of the nozzle and give it a little wiggle. Krystal groaned and quivered involuntarily with a mixture of discomfort and pleasure. “I’m going to take this out now—I don’t want you to spill one single drop or there’s going to be consequences. Do you understand me, young lady?’ she asked sternly.
Krystal gave an affirmative grunt and nodded her head. She was aware of Carrie’s condescension, but decided not to even mention it. At this point she was more desperate to escape than ever, and she pledged to do whatever the twins said as long as it got her home safely without being exposed in this humiliating condition.
“Here we go,” Carrie said as she began withdrawing the nozzle from Krystal’s anus with maddening slowness, gently twisting it to and fro as she went. The lubrication meant that the nozzle came out easily… however, Carrie still made sure to take her time, making her stepmother feel every maddening sensation in intimate detail.
At last the nozzle came free with a small popping sound. Krystal sobbed and groaned—a tiny dribble sputtered free, but she clamped down mightily. She was, just barely, under control. For the moment, anyway—inside her swollen tummy, her guts bubbled away, the fermenting beans, slippery castor oil, and soapy enema all conspiring to turn into a diarrheic disaster… she just prayed their next stop was going to be the ladies room.
Carrie quickly undid the straps at her wrists and ankles and ordered Krystal to turn over on her back. She complied with a grateful moan, thankful to take some of the pressure off her swollen belly. She groaned around her pacifier when she saw Carrie fish a fresh diaper out of her purse, but her stepdaughter was adamant. “Lift that little tushy right now little missy, or you’re going to regret it!”
What’s one more regret at this point? Krystal thought miserably, briefly flirting with refusing to comply—then relenting instantly when she became fearful of what Carrie would do if she didn’t. Besides that, her bowels were bubbling and gurgling nosily inside her, and she realized that going without a diaper in her present condition could be disastrous. So she reluctantly planted her feet on the padded leather surface of the bench and lifted her butt up in the air to allow her stepdaughter to smugly slip an adult-sized pamper beneath her straining cheeks. She plopped her butt down on the thick padding with a soft moan behind her pacifier.
Where her first diapering had been long, slow, and sensual, this one was quick and businesslike—Carrie methodically rubbed a little lotion into her stinging red rump, then quickly dusted her with powder. Before she knew it, Krystal found herself sealed-up tightly in diapers again.
Taking her by the hand, Carrie helped her to her feet with a muffled groan. Her tummy burbled hotly, and Krystal squeezed her buttocks and clamped her anus as tightly as she could, the contents of her belly straining to escape like a wild beast pounding at the door. She had control, at least for the moment, but she still bounced and wriggled slightly in place, blushing furiously when she caught sight of herself in the mirror on the wall, thickly diapered, clad only in a silly bonnet and bib, her face smeared with congealing food, wriggling in place and twitching her bottom in a humiliating demonstration of the potty dance.
The door swung open suddenly—Krystal gave a gasp and started. She felt a small, involuntary squirt from her anus, but was able to clamp down quickly, before it got messy. She was relieved to see Chloe standing in the doorway, and she prayed it was time to go home. “Everything’s ready,” she said to Carrie, shooting her a significant look that went unnoticed by Krystal, who had other things on her mind.
“Time to go, Krystal,” said Carrie, reaching out and taking her by the hand.
“Are you ready?” Chloe asked, taking the other hand.
She gave a small groan and farted uncontrollably. There was a quick, sputtering gush from her anus. “OOHHHH-oh-oh-oh!” she squealed behind her gag, struggling to regain control. It took all of her might, but she was finally able to clamp down with a quivering grunt. She was sure it was just water—but she knew the next time she lost control she might not be so lucky. Cautiously, she allowed the twins to lead her out of the room and into the hallway, carefully baby-stepping as quickly as her clenched cheeks would allow.
Still groggy from being stuffed with heavy, rich food, her guts churning and boiling, Krystal hobbled along behind the twins, the weight and pressure of the hot, mushy mess lurking just inside her forcing her to toddle along behind the twins as she clenched and squeezed in a desperate attempt to maintain control.
A wet, greasy fart blurped it way from her bottom. “OOO!” She squealed, a thick, muddy squirt from her backside halting her in her tracks. She grunted and squeezed her cheeks together in a desperate attempt at keeping control. She’d had a little accident, she was sure of that—she could feel it in the seat of her diaper… all warm and gooey against her buttocks. But at least she’d managed to restrain herself—for now, anyway.
“Come on, Krystal,” Chloe admonished, coaxing her along. “We’re almost there! Just a little further now…”
Krystal followed along behind them in an exaggerated waddle… between the thickness of the diaper and the almost painful excursion of keeping her buttocks and asshole clenchedl, Krystal could just barely baby-step herself down the hallway toward the exit door.
She let out another muddy squirt when they reached the exit, grunting with embarrassment as she added to the gooey slick in her diaper with a sizable blurp. She halted in her tracks once mere and struggled to regain control, vividly aware of the small, but hot and gooey pile in the seat of her diaper. She gave a frantic, sobbing groan and squeezed herself shut, determined not to add any further mess to her diaper. What she’d done already was awful… to lose control completely would be devastating to the prissy, egotistical Krystal. The worst part was, these little “mishaps” didn’t even bring any relief and only served to remind her of the consequences of failure with every squishy, gooey step.
And so it went, with Krystal baby-stepping as quickly as she could, pausing occasionally to gather her strength, led forward by the twins. She had only one further little squirt, and she began feeling hopeful—maybe she could find her way out of this yet!
Unfortunately, in her desperate struggled to maintain just one last, lingering thread of her dignity, she hadn’t been paying attention to where Chloe and Carrie were leading her—a pity, since the twins had actually lead her back to the clubhouse. Slowly, cautiously, they made their way inside. “I’ll go scout ahead,” Carrie said, leaving Chloe to slowly lead her toddling stepmother down the hall.
Chloe coaxed her along just like a real baby: “C’mon Krystal—just a little further! That’s it… Oh, you’re doing so good!” Krystal gritted her teeth and moved her legs with a look of grim determination that would almost be inspiring… if it weren’t topped off with a ridiculous, frilly baby bonnet, that is. Below her, the diaper was massively swollen, making her rump look huge and spreading her thighs awkwardly, and the way she was waddling was making her breasts jiggle and sway, revealing her nipples from behind the tiny little bib with each move. The mess in her pants was small but hot, slimy, and definitely noticeable with each step. She grunted and desperately clenched her sphincter, sweat pouring down her brow with every waddle, Chloe’s faux sweet encouragement stinging her ears like acid (“Come on, babykins… we’re almost there!”)
At last, they halted: “We’re here, sweetie,” said Chloe with a smile. Krystal looked around, dazed and confused: it was dark and stuffy, and she could hear a strange din somewhere close by… but her painful, desperate struggle was preventing her from thinking about it very hard… her entire concentration was centered on controlling herself. It was a contest of wills, played out against her own body, aware of every cramp and gurgle in her bowels. She squeezed her anus as tightly as she was able, and Krystal chewed her lip nervously, every pulse and quiver of that tiny little muscle signaling possible disaster. Her breath came in heaving gasps, and sweat ran down her cheeks in thick drops… Still she grunted softly to herself and squeezed, trying desperately to maintain control.
“Wait right here, honey,” said Carrie, “I’m going to pull the car around.”
She hurried off, barely able to contain her mirth. Chloe touched Krystal’s bare shoulder.
“You stay here,” she said sweetly, “I’m going to keep an eye out for the car.” She went off into the dark, leaving Krystal standing very nervously by herself.
The seconds dragged by like decades… Krystal, standing off by herself, struggled to contain her bowels, sweated and squirmed in nervous discomfort. She “Ooo”ed and “ahh”ed, huffing and puffing to herself as she squeezed her sphincter desperately, vividly aware of the gooey slick in the seat of her diapers, holding on to what little dignity she had left by the atoms on the edges of her fingernails…
“Ladies and Gentleman!” Krystal jumped and nearly lost control of herself when the voice boomed suddenly over a nearby loudspeaker. She scanned the room frantically for the source of the noise. The voice continued:
“Ladies and gentleman, we thank you for coming tonight and we apologize for the wait… but you’ll be happy to know that the guest of honor has finally arrived!”
Krystal was frantic with desperation and only half listening, but she quickly recognized the voice of one of her bitchy twin stepdaughters… Krystal suddenly had a very bad feeling about all this...
“So let’s have a big round of applause for my stepmother—the birthday girl!”
Krystal heard a strange humming sound. A quick glance to her right revealed Chloe pulling quickly but evenly on some kind of rope.
All at once, a large gap opened in the wall before her, and Krystal gasped, a bright shaft of light falling across her face. Too late she realized she’d been standing in front of a curtain the whole time… and now she felt a horrifying sinking feeling as she realized where she was.
The curtain parted slowly. Krystal briefly entertained notions of bolting to the left or right, but quickly abandoned those plans when she realized it wasn’t going to be physically possible to both flee and keep her diaper clean. Gripped by indecision, she froze in place… and before she could do anything about it, the point was moot—the curtain was up, and Krystal was bathed in the searing glare of the light of the club house.
“And here she is,” she heard Carrie say, her voice positively glowing with malicious glee, “the woman of the hour-- My beautiful stepmother Krystal!”
Krystal blinked and squinted against the harsh glare of the spotlight. She groaned, disoriented, not quite able to accept the scene before her as reality and not some kind of horrible nightmare. It wasn’t possible, of course— clearly she was still trussed up and sleeping it off in the nurse’s room. Krystal was positive that she couldn’t actually be standing here in front of all her friends and acquaintances in a ridiculous baby costume topped off with an already slightly poopy diaper. She stood on the stage, dazed and blinking, sure that at any moment she was going to wake up.
But the dream didn’t end, and as the applause died down and gave way to gawking stares from the audience, Krystal realized, with a rush of nausea and nightmarish vertigo, that it was all too horribly real.
“We spent the day making a very special video celebrating Krystal and what an extraordinary person she is… Carrie, roll the clip!”
The room went dim… heads turned as the big screen TV near the back of the room came to life. Krystal followed their gaze, nearly passing out when she saw herself on the screen, glued to the chair and hollering at the twins: “Get me out of here, you morons!”
Cut to the twins yanking her free of both the chair and her dress… Krystal blushed when she realized every detail of her firm, succulent breasts and neatly trimmed pussy were clearly visible on the screen in glorious high definition. Disbelieving gasps and murmurs ran through the crowd as Krystal’s cheeks grew red.
It got worse: the clip quickly cut, and Krystal was soon watching herself buck and writhe on her back, squealing and moaning shamelessly on the changing table as Carrie and Chloe carefully oiled and powdered her on the changing table before slipping a massive, bulky diaper under her bottom. Gasps of disbelief rippled through the room—Krystal felt faint from embarrassment. On the screen, she saw herself pulled to her feet, standing resplendent in her silly costume in front of the twins (and the stunned and disbelieving audience.) Krystal couldn’t imagine this getting any worse.
And then, it did: Krystal watched, her mouth falling open, horrified when she saw herself strapped into her high chair. “Ready for lunch?” She heard Chloe ask again, feeling a wave of déjà vu. The clip immediately made a smash cut to Krystal opening her mouth wide to emit a shockingly loud belch, then cut again to show her lifting a diapered butt cheek to cut a big, fat fart.
“Oh my god,” Krystal whispered to herself with a quivering voice as she spent the next 120 seconds watching a mortifying supercut of herself belching and farting like a hog with lactose intolerance. The sounds of roaring burps and thunderous flatulence rolled over the audience in crisp Dolby surround sound, and the spectators crinkled their noses and shot each other glances of disbelieving disgust… it was a side of their gracious hostess most of them had never dreamed of seeing.
Krystal prayed it would cut away… then quickly found herself praying it would go back-- anything was better than watching herself grunting and groaning shamelessly with a thick, black enema nozzle protruding from her anus, pumping her colon full of water while one twin paddled her bottom bright red and the other worked a throbbing vibrator out of her well lubricated sex. The spectators watched the proceedings with a sort of horrified fascination normally reserved for gruesome car wrecks. Without taking their eyes from the screen, they slowly craned their necks first one way, then the other, as though they were examining some kind of abstract art from different angles, trying to divine its meaning. Krystal reeled on her feet, nauseous and light-headed… yet somehow, she kept herself from fainting, and at last, the clip mercifully ended.
The screen went black. The lights went up, and Krystal squinted in there searing glare. The room was silent, and Krystal suddenly felt a hundred pairs of eyes on her, staring, radiating judgment in her direction. The twins sat back, beaming, enjoying it all. Their participation and culpability in the events leading up to that moment would be widely discussed and debated by the community in the weeks to come—but in that moment, all the attention was on Krystal— as she predicted earlier in the day, though certainly not in the way that she’d imagined.
“I… that… it…” Krystal could only gape and stammer, helplessly searching for an explanation for what her guests had just witnessed. But even if she had been able to find the exact combination of words that would have adequately answered all questions about the preceding five minutes, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway… Krystal had reached the absolute limits of her control. She’s been stuffed with beans, pumped full of castor oil and given a massive, soapy enema, and as her bowels raged and roared inside of her, she realized she could hold it no longer.
Instinctively, she squeezed her anus as tightly as it would go… a ghastly, foghorn blast of a fart made a mockery of her efforts, and Krystal’s heart froze at the first messy gush into the seat of her diapers. A series of disapproving gasps rose up from the audience. Krystal cut them off with another gaseous eruption; a gooey explosion coated her buttocks and caused her diaper to sag and bulge noticeably.
“UUUUUUHHHH!” she groaned, another wave of sticky mush was propelled out of her body by a sharp cramp in her bowels, loud and lumpy. The back of her diaper inflated and sagged, growing lumpier and heavier as a powerful, sustained contraction wracked her bowels, pushing out her massive, mushy load uncontrollably.
Krystal grunted and groaned and continued to mess herself involuntarily, a disgusting symphony of flatulence and mucky, muddy squishes and squelches emerged from inside her pampers, the seat growing lumpier and darker as it sagged lower and lower—soon the top of Krystal’s butt crack was peeking out over the waistband of her drooping diaper.
At last, the cramping settled down and Krystal was able to straighten out again, her already bulky pamper now all lumpy and sagging behind her, subtly stained. Huffing and puffing for breath (in spite of the strong poopy odor that had begun to emerge) she looked out at the audience like a deer in the headlights, her hair matted and sweaty beneath the bonnet. She could hear the eerie, mocking laughter of the twins somewhere beyond the harsh glare of the spotlights and knew that they were enjoying their well orchestrated revenge at her expense. She knew that, one way or another, her days as the queen of the country club were over.
At last, she heard her husband speak from somewhere in the audience. “Krystal! What is the meaning of this?” he demanded angrily… as though she could possibly provide an answer. Dazed and dirty following her ordeal, Krystal began to wobble noticeably on her unsteady feet. The heavy load in the seat of her diaper (not to mention the exertion of futilely straining to keep it inside her in the first place) had left her physically and mentally drained. She tottered, struggled to keep her balance, then toppled backward onto the seat of her poopy pampers.
She sat for a long moment, the mess squishing beneath her well toned backside, and Krystal groaned as she felt it spurting up between her buttocks, her moth hanging open in shocked surprised disgust. She felt her bottom lip starting to quiver, and frantically bit her cheek, determined to maintain that one last shred of her dignity. But as she gazed out at the increasingly disgusted and outright angry faces of her guests, she felt herself beginning to sob a bit. She took an involuntary breath in through her nose and immediately burst into tears… the smell was positively gagging, and it had literally enveloped her… Krystal could clearly see the people in the first couple of rows pinching their noses and fanning their faces, and it was easy to see why… Krystal could almost see the stench wafting off of her in thick lines. She felt like a cartoon skunk.
Meanwhile, the twins stood on opposite sides of the stage, gleefully filming the climax to their epic triumph over their bitchy, gold digging stepmother (which would quickly be spliced onto the end of the existing footage and then gleefully uploaded across the internet.) They positively glowed, reveling in their victory and glorying in the humiliation of an opponent well vanquished.
…They were so absorbed in their own brilliance that the question of possible retaliation never even entered their minds… nor the question of what Krystal might possibly do with her time once she’d sufficiently recovered from her ordeal…
THE END… ?
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