The Magic Collar

Mirabelle inspected the items on the gift shop’s racks with a critical eye. Cheap, chintzy crap was the word of the day–jewelry, accessories, shoes, all of it terrible. Most of it was fake plastic junk, and the stuff that wasn’t plastic was ten times more expensive than it should have been.

She was almost ready to give up and try the next store in the mall when one item caught her eye. A lace choker on a shelf, with a beautiful pendant on the front. In calligraphy, it read, Belle.

Strictly speaking, Mirabelle had come to the story looking for a gift, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t treat herself. The choker was genuinely pretty, so she expected it to cost five billion dollars just like every other decent bit of jewelry in the shop, but she felt compelled to check the price tag anyways.

Only eight bucks? That’s a steal!

Picking up the choker, she tentatively tried it on. A perfect fit, snug without restricting her breathing. In the mirror on the shelf, she admired how it looked on her neck.

Even if she didn’t have Vera’s gift, she wouldn’t have to leave the shop empty handed. Picking up the box that the choker had been displayed next to, she strolled past the shelves and up to the checkout counter.

“Find what you’re looking for?” The cashier was a pimply teenager, probably making minimum wage.

“Not quite, but I couldn’t say no to this necklace,” Mirabelle said, passing over a ten dollar bill.

The teen leaned forward, looking at the choker. “‘Belle’. That’s pretty. Is that your name?”

At ‘Belle’, Mirabelle felt a sudden…shift. The choker seemed to grow tighter around her neck, ever so slightly, and…

I need a coffee, I must be feeling things.

She nodded and accepted her change. “Thanks.”

Leaving the shop, she tried to focus on buying a proper gift, but something was wrong. It felt as though the mother of all pads had suddenly appeared in her panties, which… didn’t make any sense.

She looked down, but it looked fine from the outside–her skinny jeans just looked like skinny jeans. Not wanting to feel herself up in the very public mall, she put it out of her mind for a moment, leaving with her purse and brand new, beautiful choker to get a coffee from one of the many kiosks in the mall’s food court.

While she waited in line, she texted Vera, ‘Why are you soooo hard to buy gifts for!’

‘I already said you don’t need to get me anything, babe! I really don’t mind! <3 ‘

‘I knooow but I want to!’

“Your order?”

Mirabelle looked up. She’d spaced out on her phone and not realized the person in front of her had left. Tucking her phone into her purse, she asked, “Uh, Large Mocha?”

“Sure, one Venti Mocha. Name?”

She started to say, ‘Mirabelle’, but on impulse instead gave the name, “Belle.”

Again, something was… wrong. Her panties definitely didn’t feel like panties anymore, and her hair–she put a hand up to her hair, and felt pigtails with where it’d once fallen freely over her shoulder.

“Ma’am?”

She blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You have to pay,” the barista said.

“Right.” She paid with her card and went to wait for her drink, sitting off to the side.

She needed to know. Glancing around to ensure nobody was watching her, Mirabelle looked down at herself, pulling out the waistband of her jeans. It didn’t look like she was wearing panties, from the elastic and puffy pink plastic it almost seemed like she had on training–

“Order for Belle!”

Something–something was wrong. She turned, not wanting to waste the coffee, seizing it from the counter. The taste was sweet, and not at all bitter, as though–

“Um, excuse me?” she asked, turning around. “This isn’t what I ordered.”

The barista stepped forward. “Are you sure?”

Mirabelle put the hand holding her purse on her hip, raising up the cup with her other hand. “Uh, yeah. This is cocoa.”

He looked at the receipt. “One hot chocolate for Belle. I don’t see the… miss?”

She dropped the cup. Fortunately, it was plastic, and had a spillproof lid.

Turning, Belle ran to the nearest bathroom, but it was far too late. She could feel the hot pee rushing out of her, totally unbidden, totally unstoppable, and…

Her pants felt dry.

She didn’t stop to ponder this paradox. She needed a bathroom, she needed privacy. Hurrying into the nearest women’s room, she beelined for a stall, sealing herself away and sitting on the toilet.

She pulled down her jeans–they didn’t have a zipper or a button, just an elastic waist, like kiddie pants. Beneath them, instead of her normal panties or even training pants, was a pink princess diaper with visibly faded striped and a dark, discolored area around the crotch.

A diaper.

A wet diaper.

Mirabelle didn’t know what to do. She pulled her jeans back up, but this… everything…

What the hell is going on?

She took out her phone and texted Vera. ‘Are you busy? I’m kind of freaking out.’

Turning off the screen, she saw her reflection on the black glassy surface of her phone, and…

Her choker wasn’t a choker.

It was a collar.

Turning on the selfie camera, she got a better look. The lace had turned to dyed pink leather, and instead of a pendant, there hung a shiny pet nametag, though it still read ‘Belle’.

Other things were different. Her hair was indeed in pigtails, with big adorable bows. Her shirt had a colorful cartoon pony on it, and a pacifier hung from a clip over her breast.

Panicked, she reached up, trying to remove the collar. There was a buckle on the back, but her fingers slid over it, refusing to come anywhere near the buckle’s release mechanism. She tried with both hands but got the same result; she couldn’t remove the collar.

“No,” she stammered. “No, no, no–”

Her phone rang. Vera was calling. She answered, desperate for something stable, someone to talk to. “Babe?”

“Hey, sweetie, are you okay?” Vera said. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t–It’s–I can’t…” Mirabelle stammered. “Something’s happening to me, something I don’t understand.”

“Okay, calm down. Where are you, sweetie? Are you safe?”

“In the bathroom at the mall,” Mirabelle said. “I’m safe.”

“Okay. Tell me what happened.”

“My clothes–” she started, before changing her mind. “I was at this shop, and…”

“Shh, don’t worry,” Vera said. “Everything’s going to be okay. Tell me about the shop?”

“There was this choker,” Mirabelle said. It sounded insane, but if there was anyone she could tell this to, it was Vera. “And I thought it looked pretty, so I put it on, and now… things keep changing. My clothes are different, and it’s not a choker anymore.”

“Do you want me to come get you, Belle?”

She blinked at her name, panic rising in her chest as she realized what was happening. She’d changed again. The pacifier was in her lips now; she couldn’t spit it out, and she couldn’t speak over it.

“Belle? Are you there?”

Another change came over her. Her fingers felt clumsy and legs felt suddenly weak; she was glad she was sitting down because she was no longer sure she could walk. Her shirt was no longer a shirt, but a onesie that wrapped around her diaper, pulling it close to her body so she could feel the wetness more acutely. And a grumble in her belly…

She whimpered as she felt her body rebel, pushing out a mass of warm, solid mush into the seat of her diaper. She couldn’t stop it, though she tried desperately to close her legs.

Sitting on the toilet seat, Mirabelle could only squeak and mewl in helpless embarrassment as she loaded up her diaper, her weight pushing her into the stinky muck.

Feeling trapped, determined not to leave the bathroom for fear someone would see her, Mirabelle pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees, suckling her pacifier. She wanted to calm down, but what could she do? Her legs felt like jelly; she’d need to crawl out of the bathroom if she wanted to leave. And then what? Crawl to her car, try to drive home? That was out of the question.

Though it made the mass in her diaper press into her more, she rocked back and forth in a self-soothing way. Minutes passed, and she found herself trickling into her diaper again, only noticing because the dampness grew momentarily warmer.

More time passed. She didn’t know how long. A few people came to use the restroom, but nobody noticed that she wasn’t really using her stall, and she was given space–even as a few people commented on the smell, suggesting that the bathroom was in need of a cleaning.

And then…

“Belle? Are you in here?”

She whimpered as the shoes on her feet turned to booties and her pants simply vanished, but the voice was Vera’s. “Mmm!” she mumbled, stumbling forward off the toilet, pawing at the bathroom door lock.

It swung open, and Vera saw her on all fours, helpless, her puffy bottom sticking out, diaper obvious through the slightly sheer onesie even if the smell didn’t give Mirabelle away.

Vera’s eyes widened. “Belle, why–”

Belle whimpered, but this time her clothes didn’t change, and her body didn’t expel any waste. Instead, a sudden wave of pleasure washed over her and she shuddered, moaning into her pacifier.

Vera crouched down to Belle’s level. “What’s going on?”

Shaking her head, Mirabelle pawed at her pacifier. She couldn’t speak, and when Vera tried to remove it, it stuck.

“Okay, um… think. You said it was your collar on the phone, so…” She reached forward, to try and remove it.

Belle knew that it wouldn’t work, and her heart sank as–

Click.

The collar popped off, returning to a choker in Vera’s hands as she pulled it away.

The pacifier fell from Mirabelle’s lips, and the strength to her body. One by one, the changes to her clothes reverted; booties back to shoes, onesie to shirt, pants reappearing… all save her diaper, which remained just as puffy, just as full, just as stinky.

“Um…” Mirabelle said. “I don’t…thank you.”

Vera pulled her into a hug. “Of course, Belle. You don’t need to explain.” Sniffing, she added, “Though you might want to change.”

Mirabelle nodded. “Can we just go home? I don’t have any other clothes with me, and…”

“Sure,” Vera said. “Of course.”

…

Mirabelle was shaken, naturally, but once she got home, showered, and cleaned up, she felt better. The experience had been frightening and humiliating, but nobody save for Vera had seen her at the worst of it, and she was better now. She even managed to pee in a toilet.

She didn’t know why, but she didn’t need to. Vera had saved her, that’s all that mattered. And now that they were home, and private…

Mirabelle could always try the choker on again.