Couples Therapy - Part 2

The rest of the day was mostly uneventful. Angela spent most of the afternoon watching cartoons. She’d been so insulted when Eric had sat her in front of the television and put on the little kids channel for her while he read a book, but she’d barely managed to start complaining before the lovely bright colours of the show drew her in. Even if it was a silly plot about a little baby bear leaning to be good for her Daddy, it was still nice. Relaxing, Angela told herself.

She made a bit of a mess at dinner, and Eric needed to wipe her mouth clean for her and send her off to change her top. He’d even joked about getting her a bib. Angela had giggled, but really she’d been a bit scared. She didn’t want to need a bib.

But it wasn’t until she was getting ready for bed that evening that Angela really started to get upset, when she walked into their bedroom (and wasn’t that odd, because hadn’t they been living in different houses?) and she saw the large white disposable nappy waiting for her on the bed.

She froze immediately at the sight of it. Even though she knew she wore them every night (didn’t she?), there was something about seeing it this time that was different.

“I can’t… I don’t want to… I’m not wearing that.”

“Sweetheart,” said Eric, like he was explaining something very simple to someone stupid. “You have to wear your nappies otherwise you’ll make a big mess! You’ll go pee-pee all over the sheets, darling, just like you do every night. And I don’t want to have to wake up in pissy sheets.”

Angela blushed. She felt so pathetic.

“But it’s okay, baby,” Eric cooed. Angela got butterflies in her tummy at the gentle tone of his voice. “I still think you’re adorable, even with a yucky wet nappy on. I don’t care that you’re not full potty trained at night, sweetie.”

Angela went scarlet, but she couldn’t help feeling a pleasant tingle run down her spine. Lucky girl. She was a lucky girl to have Eric. She held out her arms hopefully, and he responded by pulling her in for a big cuddle.

Angela felt ditzy. She felt drunk. She didn’t even resist as Eric stripped off all of her clothes and laid her gently down on the bed, with her bare bottom planted right on the seat of the bulky adult diaper.

‘Good girl,” he crooned as he sprinkled her nether regions with baby powder and patted it into her skin. “That’s a good girl.” He taped her nappy tightly around her waist, and pulled her back to her feet. She stood there awkwardly, her legs spread apart by the thickness of her nappy, shifting from foot to foot. Eric started to undress as well. But he didn’t have any nappies to change into. He was an adult.

Angela was about to get into bed when she realised she hadn’t put a top on. Did she usually go to bed topless? She looked down at her large bare tits and felt a bizarre urge to start jiggling them, to start bouncing them up and down. She giggled. She was such a silly girl!

“What are you giggling at, sweetie?” her husband asked, smiling.

“Nufing!” Angela blushed and shook her head. “I mean, nothing.” She was just being dumb. She was just being a dumb bitch. A silly girl. She couldn’t tell him she’d been thinking about bouncing her boobies – that would be so embarrassing! It definitely wasn’t something that a big girl would do. But then… it wasn’t something a little girl would do either, was it? Because they didn’t even have boobies! Angela screwed up her face in concentration.

He laughed. “Silly girl! Are you trying to do thinkies? It’s bedtime, sweetie. Time to turn that sweet little brain off.”

Angela scowled. He knew she hated being talked down to! She stuck out her bottom lip and stomped her foot to show him how angry she was. “Don’t patwonise me!” she pouted.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, but there was something about his eyes that made Angela feel like he was still laughing at her.

She got into bed grumpily, her tits jiggling and her nappy crinkling loudly as she got under the covers. Eric got into bed next to her and immediately pressed himself right up against her body, reaching round to grab one of her boobs so tightly that she winced.

She almost moved away instinctively. Weren’t they fighting about something? Weren’t they angry with each other for some reason? But then she remembered that good girls didn’t do that. Good girls didn’t say no with their mouths or their bodies.

Angela frowned. That didn’t sound right. She wasn’t her husband’s property… was she? But she felt herself getting wet at the thought. It had been a while since they’d have sex, although she wasn’t sure why. She was so horny. She imagined him taking her now, ripping her nappy off and ramming his cock up her ass, pounding her up the butt until she cried. It was what she deserved.

Angela wrinkled her nose, sickened with herself. Where were these thoughts coming from?! She didn’t even like anal! It was a disgusting male fantasy! Eric had asked her several times, but she always said no. It was the same with blowjobs.

Even so, she didn’t push him away. He didn’t initiate sex that night, but Angela drifted off to sleep with her husband’s hard cock pressed firmly against her padded bottom, and his hand groping one of her bare tits possessively.

When she woke up the next morning, her nappy was soaked with piss. Even though she knew it was something that happened to her every morning (although her actual memories were a little foggy), it still felt so strange and embarrassing. It was so yucky! The sodden nappy was cold and clammy, and it reeked. Their whole bedroom smelled like pee now. She’d probably smell like pee herself for the rest of the day. Her new perfume. Odeur d'enfant.

She untangled herself from Eric’s arms and slipped out of bed, nearly gagging when her icky nappy sagged as she stood up. It was so heavy!

She heard Eric moving behind her, and turned around. Her husband was propping himself up in bed, looking at her with a smile that was a little too much like a smirk. “Do you need changing, sweetie?” he asked.

She looked at him dumbly.

“Do you need me to help?” he tried again, nodding at her waist.

She followed his gaze to the sopping wet nappy sagging between her thighs, and felt herself going red. No! She didn’t need help changing! She wasn’t a baby! A mental image of herself laying on her back with her legs in the air flashed in her mind, and she shook her head vigorously. “No fank you,” she mumbled. “I mean, no thank you.” What was wrong with her voice? She sounded silly. Silly like that secretary at the therapist’s office. A lisping porn parody. She ran her fingers through her hair and over her bare chest. No pigtails. No stripper tits. She was a big girl. A respectable woman.

“Okay sweetheart,” her husband said, smiling at her patiently. “Go and change your nappy then.”

Angela broke out of her thoughts, realising she’d been standing there stupidly like she was waiting for his permission to go. She turned around and toddled to the bathroom as quickly as she could, her droopy diaper swinging about between her legs as she went. She imagined she could feel his eyes on her backside and her face burned with shame. She must look so stupid!

She nearly cried when she saw herself in the bathroom mirror. She was a sexy grown woman with great tits and a tight body, right up until you got to her waist, where instead of seeing her cleanly shaved pussy and cute ass, there was a bulky disposable diaper hanging heavily between her legs, clearly full to the brim with wee-wee. When she undid the tapes, it fell to the floor with a wet smack.

Angela got to work cleaning herself up with wet wipes, making sure to get every bit of pee around her nether regions. She couldn’t stand being so dirty. When she was done, she shoved her used nappy in the tiny bathroom bin and wandered back into the bedroom naked.

Eric had arranged her clothes out on the bed for her, and for a moment, Angela could only stare at them in disbelief.

A pastel-pink, little-girlish frock with frilly white ankle socks, trainers, and a pair of baby-blue panties with Disney princesses on them. The outfit looked exactly like something a four-year-old would wear, if that four-year-old was the size of a grown woman.

Angela was about to shout, when all of a sudden a strange fuzziness fell over her mind. She looked at the clothes again. They were kind of cute. They weren’t baby clothes after all. It’s not like she was being taken outside in her nappy, made to run around nearly naked like a toddler. They just looked a bit silly. A smile tugged at her lips. And she was a silly girl.

Angela smiled vacantly at Eric when he started to dress her, sliding her underwear up her legs and pulling her frock over her head (“Arms up! That’s a good girl!”), even pulling on her socks and tying her shoelaces for her. She felt looked after. She felt pretty and cute. She felt like a good girl.

She hopped from foot to foot impatiently while Eric put his own shoes on at the door. “Come onnn!” she whined, fidgeting with the hem of her dress, lifting it up absent-mindedly and flashing her adorable little-girl undies.

“Looking forward to seeing the therapist, sweetie?” he chuckled, as he finished putting his shoes on and picked up a large sports bag.

Angela nodded her head eagerly. She wanted to see the pretty lights again.

“Good girl,” he said. A pleasant tingle ran down Angela’s spine and into her pussy. “Then let’s get going.”