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Warning: Very messy and humiliating. If the first one wasn’t up you ally this one probably won’t be either.
Officer Guzman Rides Again!
“Officer Guzman?”
The sudden squawk of the radio made her jump. She’d been stopped at a red, feeling the bike vibrating beneath her through the load in her pants, thinking about the unlikely turn of events her routine traffic stop had taken. To say that the last think she’d expected when she clocked in this morning was that she’d be riding home with the seat of her pants full of poop just about an hour after lunch was the understatement of the decade. Sierra Guzman hadn’t shit herself since the unfortunate “chili cheese dog incident” back in high school…
“Officer Guzman, please respond…” The dispatch’s voice was heavy with annoyance. Sierra picked up the hand set, licked her lips nervously, and hit the button.
“This is Guzman,” she responded stiffly, “come back.”
The radio crackled. “We’ve got an accident in your area,” (no shit, Sierra thought, her stomach rolling as she thought about the gooey mudslide in her pants) “are you able to assist?”
“NO!” she answered quickly. Her stomach rolled—immediately after the word left her mouth, she felt a god-awful rumble in her belly. Her bowels gurgled, her rectum filled. There was instant pressure on her sphincter, and she suddenly felt as though she were trying to hold in a hundred pound weight.
A second later, it became a thousand pounds; she made a heroic effort, but fell tragically short. Another mess came bubbling into her pants. Gasping, she unconsciously stood, inadvertently displaying the badly stained seat of her pants to everyone behind her. She planted her feet, face going red as she uncontrollably messed herself. Beside her, a group of college girls in a hot convertible looked on in disbelief. “OH MY GOD!” Sierra heard one cry, “SHE SHIT HER PANTS!”
“Who?” someone else asked.
“THAT COP RIGHT THERE!”
“EWWWWW!” the entire car cried at once, watching in disbelief as Sierra filled her pants. Instantly, four purses snapped open and four cell-phones came out. She was mortified beyond belief, but knew she had to explain herself to the dispatcher—fast!
“I uh—I had a blowout on I-19--” she exploded into her pants, making this statement at least partially true. Behind her the college girls tut-tutted, capturing her inflating seat from every angle. “I’m gonna need some time to change the tire,” she added, causing further eruption in her trousers.
“Uh, are you ok, officer Guzman?” the dispatcher asked in a detached voice.
“I’m just a little—messy…” she whispered, shifting from foot to foot nervously.
“What’d you say? ‘Messy?’”
“What? NO! I-I’m sick—I’m sick and I need the afternoon off!” She tried to keep quiet as she added further installment to the pile in her slacks.
“What? Guzman, you need to contact the supervisor--”
“I’ll do it when I finish the tire!” she assured, grimacing as another load came mushing out into her pants.
“So wrong…” one of the girls commented, zooming in on Sierra’s lumpy, brown seat as it inflated even further.
“Guzman… are you in some kind of trouble?”
The light turned green. “Oh, gotta go, call you back later!” she cried. Settling back on her bike with an audible squish, she shifted into gear and took off across the intersection.
---
She managed to get home without any problems, and she navigated the lobby and elevator of her building without being seen. But when she got up to her floor, she saw Mrs. Peabody, her nosy, crotchety neighbor was out in the hallway. She tried to sneak past, but she could see the old woman’s nose twitching as she approached. Straitening, the old biddy fixed Sierra with her filthiest look and placed her hands on her hips. “Young lady!” she scolded, sniffing the air disapprovingly. “I sincerely hope that unpleasant odor isn’t coming from you!”
“No ma’am!” Sierra answered without thinking. BBRRAPPPTT! With an audible fart, she blasted another hot load into her pants. Mrs. Peabody wrinkled her nose disapprovingly. “It’s—the sewer!” FFFBBLORT! She erupted into her underwear. “They’re—working on the sewer outside…” PPHHORT! Another explosion, another mudslide into her seat. Mrs. Peabody stared, disbelieving and disapproving.
Slowly, careful not to expose her seat to her nosy neighbor, Sierra slowly waddled to her door, stiffly undid the lock, and shuffled slowly inside.
---
She slammed the door shut behind her and let out a shaky breath. For the first time since her ‘accident’ she felt like she could relax. Her first thought was to head into the bathroom, but before she could make a move, she heard that awful man’s voice in her head: ‘…find a nice, hard chair, put down some newspaper if you have to, and sit your poopy buns down in that mess and really concentrate on how it makes you feel. Do that for ten minutes…’
She knew she wouldn’t be able to resist without even trying; there was just something about the way he said it that left no doubt in her mind she had to follow his instructions. In the living room, she pulled out one of her hard, wooden chairs from around the table, checked the clock, and, with a heavy sigh, sat once more with an audible squish. Frowning, she struggled and failed to find a more comfortable position, sighed, and checked the clock. Squirming in her seat with a massive load in her pants, she tried not to think about that horrible man, the one who’d done this to her, but she kept replaying the incident again and again in her mind. She nearly cried when she thought about the last thing he’d told her—she’d hoped it was a sick joke, but she was pretty sure the last 15 minutes had proven otherwise. She was going to need a little protection for the foreseeable future—diapers, she realized with a fiery blush.
She cursed the man again. How dare he do this to an officer of the law! She thought about reporting it, using her status as a cop to hunt the bastard down, but she quickly nixed the idea; after all, what was she going to tell people? “The guy made me shit my pants a bunch of times?” just the thought of another person knowing about this was enough to make her want to cry.
She almost did cry when she thought of the man again. There was no point in denying that she’s been attracted to him in an offhand sort of way. The thought of filling her pants in front of—on duty, no less—was enough to make her crawl into a hole. The knowledge that he’d been responsible in some way made her feel as though she’d literally die of embarrassment.
She looked at the clock. Ten minutes had gone by. She stood, grimacing when she felt the mess shifting in her pants. Bow-legged, she waddled into the bathroom.
His words rang in her head: ‘With your back to the mirror, take down your pants slowly and study your poopy panties.’ She turned her back to the mirror and glanced over her shoulder, blushing when she saw the huge stain on the back of her pants. Slowly undoing her belt, she tugged down her tight pants, groaning as her underwear came into view. Formerly pink, the back panel of the cotton briefs were now stained a messy brown. The seat was lumpy and dimpled, and there were twin smears down the backs of her thighs.
‘Now take them down and see what your messy hiney looks like.’ Slowly and carefully, she peeled the panties away from her poopy rump and took them down all the way, tossing them in the trash and leaving her naked from the waist down. Reluctantly, she checked the mirror behind her. She blushed more furiously than she ever had; her entire rear end was a mess, her cheeks smeared brown, the mushy mess caked inside her butt crack and trailing down her thighs.
She stripped and jumped into the shower. Sierra couldn’t remember that last time she’d enjoyed a shower this much. She must’ve soaped her ass for half an hour at least. She never wanted it to end, but she knew she had to get out and face the music eventually. With a heavy sigh, she turned off the water and climbed out.
___
The drugstore was packed.
She’d deliberately dressed down in baggy sweats. She did this for two reasons: the first was because she wanted to attract as little attention as possible, and had always thought the sweats were the least flattering thing she owned. Unfortunately, she was also pretty sure she still managed to look pretty good in them anyway (which was also true). The second was sheer practicality: she was desperate to avoid drawing attention to the diaper she knew she was going to wind up walking out of here wrapped around her gorgeous bubble-butt.
She knew she needed diapers. That wasn’t even open for debate. She had toyed with the idea of waiting until she got home to put one on, but nixed the idea, worried that she’d be forced into a situation where she’d be forced to or accidently lie. She didn’t think that the diapers would keep any accidents totally hidden, but she hoped she could at least cut down on the mess.
Into the adult diapers section now; she tried not to look too conspicuous as she browsed through the different packages. She frowned—this was more complicated than I thought. Why didn’t I do some research on the internet before I came? She thought bitterly scanning the different packages for the one that looked most suited for her situation.
“Do you need some help?” Sierra turned toward the voice. The clerk’s tag identified her as Marge. She was about 40, quite pretty, with a maternal look about her.
“N-” Sierra got out the first syllable of a no, but a sharp cramp in her belly made her cry “YES! YES, I DO!”
“Are these for you, dear?”
Sierra squirmed and blushed. “Does that really make a difference?”
“Well, we have to get the size right dear.”
She forced herself to say the words: “Yes, they are.”
“It’s ok, dear.” Marge’s smile was sickeningly benevolent. “What sort of problems are you having?”
It took her a moment to frantically stifle her first instinct to lie. “I--” she swallowed. “I—I—I’ve been having some—problems—with my bowels…”
Sierra was so embarrassed. Marge’s understanding smile just made it worse. “It’s ok, dear. No need to be embarrassed. I think I’ve got just the thing. You wait right here.”
Marge bustled through a set of double-doors and into the back. Sierra was left surrounded by diapers; each second ticked away like an hour. A couple of small boys stopped and stared at her, then ran away giggling, followed by a young couple who walked by slowly, nudging each other and chuckled in her direction.
But nothing could prepare her for what was about to happen. From behind her she heard “Isn’t that her?”
“Yeah it is! It’s that cop who shit herself!”
She turned around quickly and came face to face with the college girls from before. At that moment, Sierra willed herself to die, but somehow she continued living on in spite of her supreme humiliation. Stupidly, she answered with “Who, me?!”
“Yeah you: How’s it going, poopy-pants?”
She tried to think of something, but in her burning shame, she couldn’t think of anything true, and so could only stand there stammering dumbly “I—I—I—I—“
“--Shit yourself,” one of them finished for her, “yeah, we saw, remember?”
The girls started laughing. Sierra could only shift from foot to foot in humiliation as a small crowd gathered. A couple of them had pulled their phones and were aiming them at her menacingly.
“So—stocking up on some new depends, officer poopy-pants?” Another girl, obviously the leader, asked, indicating the diapers stacked all around.
“N--” She felt her belly rumble. “YES!” she cried, making the audience burst out laughing.
“Oh officer Poopy-Pants,” one of the girls said between guffaws, “what are we to do with you?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but before she could make a sound, Marge returned and thrust an enormous package into her arms. “Here you go dear,” she said with a strange pride, “these should do the trick.” The package was light, but cumbersome, and so huge she had to carry it with both arms out in front, pressed up against her chest and resting against her chin. The audience exploded into laughter when they saw the lettering on the front.
“Mega-Dumper-Diaper!” the package declared in large letters. “For Super Poopers!” it bragged on the bottom in neon print. “For Big Girls!” it said in dainty lettering near the bottom. “XL junk in trunk” it said beneath that. The audience was in hysterics, the camera operators trying desperately to steady their grips and zoom in so they could get the lettering. It was like she was carrying a large signboard declaring her an overgrown, pants pooping baby who needed diapers.
But Sierra couldn’t see it from her vantage; Marge ripped the top of the package open and pulled one out. “These are the most heavy duty diapers we have,” Marge said, proudly, unfolding one. It looked like it was made out of pillows. “We’re not allowed to stock it out front due to its, ahem, unfortunate packaging…”
“’Unfortunate packaging’?!”
But Sierra didn’t have long to worry about that. Marge, ever helpful, had walked around behind her and pulled down her pants and underwear, leaving her naked from the waist down in front of the entire crowd. “Hey, what are you doing?!” she shrieked, so shocked she stupidly continued to stand there with the package in her arms and her pants around her knees as the audience whooped and laughed.
Sierra could only stand there dumbly, bare butt and bush flapping in the breeze. “I’m just helping you get it on, dear,” Marge said, readying the diaper.
“Hey, no, stop! Pull my pant’s back up!”
Oh, hush!” Marge said. She delivered a hard spank to Sierra’s bare butt, making her jump and squeal. The audience laughed, clearly enjoying this entertainment.
Squatting beside her, Marge slipped the diaper between her thighs. “Oh my goodness,” Sierra heard her remark, pulling it up tight against her crotch, “I see we’re getting this on just in time... you’ve got a nasty skid mark in your panties dear!”
The crowd howled at this revelation, but Marge took no notice, carrying on with her lesson. “Make sure it’s nice and snug,” she instructed, “then pull it up nice and tight against your bottom. Now: do up the three tabs on each side…” she heard six tearing sounds in rapid succession. She stood up and admired her handiwork.
Sierra didn’t need to see the diaper to know it looked ridiculous… For one thing, the audience’s raucous laughter announced it to her and everyone else in the neighborhood. For another, she couldn’t even bring her thighs together.
In fact, it looked like she’d been strapped into the world’s biggest, fluffiest pillow. Her ass stuck way out behind her, and the padding was so thick there was no was she’d be able to walk without waddling.
She stood immobilized by humiliation, the audience cackling all around her as Marge walked around ad adjusted the diaper.
In that moment, Sierra Guzman was overcome by embarrassment. And, like many people do in those situations, she did something stupid.
“THERE’S BEEN A MISUNDERSTANGING!” she cried. “THESE AREN’T FOR ME!!” she insisted at the top of her lungs.
A cramp; she clenched her ass, but it was no use. Sierra heard herself fart, barely muffled even by her big diaper. She gasped, feeling a massive mess pour into the back of her pants uncontrollably, not even noticeable outside her diaper.
“Oh dear,” she heard Marge say beside her.
But Sierra couldn’t help herself. “THEY’RE FOR—MY GRANDMOTHER!” She told them, farting another mudslide into her diaper, making the back of her expand visibly. The crowd was alternately laughing and gagging from the stench that permeated the air.
She knew she should stop, knew she was just making things worse, but she just couldn’t stop herself. “I DON’T SHIT MY PANTS!” she insisted, drawing derisive laughter, her messy pamper and package of “Mega-Dumper-Diapers” calling counterpoint to her statement, even before she began to noisily fill her pants once more.
She stood there for a long moment, never more humiliated in her entire life. Finally Marge took her arm.
“Come along, dear, let’s get you cleaned up,” she urged, taking her arm and dragging her toward the ladies toilet. Sierra waddled along behind her, pants around her knees, trying not to squish the mess in her pants too much, the laughter of the crowd ringing out behind her.
---
Marge dragged her into the ladies room and shut the door behind her. “Ok, honey,” she said firmly, pulling her pants and panties off over her shoes, “let’s get this messy diaper changed.” She ripped open the tabs and pealed the messy pamper away from Sierra’s skin. “Whew!” She declared, crinkling her nose, “that’s a very big mess!”
Sierra, for her part, could only stand there blushing as Marge went to work, cleaning her messy backside with paper-towels and toilet paper. She grimaced, the rough paper scratching at her tender ass. She contemplated protesting, but what would be the point. Besides, it sure beat having to clean off her own poopy butt.
Soon, Marge had another diaper tugged up and sealed around her bottom.
“Time to get your pants back on, honey.” But when they tried, they discovered there was no way there were going to be able to get it up over her thickly padded bottom. The diaper was simply much too big for even her biggest pair of pants to fit over. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to carry them,” she said cheerfully, setting them on top of the package of diapers Sierra was still hefting around.
“But—But I can’t go out there like this! I look ridiculous!”
“Don’t be silly!” Marge said, ushering her out the door with a swat to her bulging derrière, “You have a medical problem! I’m sure people will understand.”
Sierra stumbled out of the ladies room and back into the pharmacy. The patrons looked up, saw her standing there in a huge bulky diaper, and burst out laughing. It was hard to blame them; between the massive, bulky pamper wrapped around her tushy and the large package declaring her a “Super-Pooper,” Sierra was forced to admit that she did look absurd. With a shameful blush, she made her way to the checkout.
She made a bee-line for the self check-out, eager to avoid any more contact with overzealous clerks. She scanned her package, prompting the till to emit a loud and enthusiastic BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP! “Oh God,” she sobbed to herself, “ what now?”
The attendant came over, looked her up and down, and grabbed the phone. “I need a price-check for ‘mega-dumper-diapers’ size xl-junk-in-trunk,” she announced over the PA. Soon the entire store was up in arms, everyone in the place laughing uproariously—except for poor Sierra, who could only stand-by blushing and humiliated.
--
Sierra slammed the apartment door behind her. After suffering one devastating humiliation after the next, it felt great to be home. She waddled inside, still naked from the waist down but for her diaper, socks and shoes. Her many, many humiliations still stoked a shameful fire inside her, but at least she was home now, where she could put it all behind her.
Sitting at her computer (it would take a while to get used to the mass of cotton fluffiness beneath her), she opened her browser. She was about to check her e-mail when something caught her eye:
“One Shitty cop!” the link declared. Heart in her throat, she clicked the link and was treated to grainy, cell-phone footage of herself shitting her pants at the red-light earlier. Her shame threatened to overwhelm her as she watched the already stained seat of her pants grow darker and lumpier by the second—and you could even hear it!
This was followed by footage of her being harassed in the pharmacy, her getting diapered, pooping her diaper, and being dragged off to the living room. Sierra thought she would die of humiliation when she realized that not-only had multiple copies from multiple different angels been uploaded, people had already started remixing it, adding music and special effects. Her private shame had turned into a very public Meme.
Turning off her computer, she waddled her bulky bottom into her room, lay face down on her bed, and began to cry.
Babes In Diapers
Officer Guzman Rides Again!
“Officer Guzman?”
The sudden squawk of the radio made her jump. She’d been stopped at a red, feeling the bike vibrating beneath her through the load in her pants, thinking about the unlikely turn of events her routine traffic stop had taken. To say that the last think she’d expected when she clocked in this morning was that she’d be riding home with the seat of her pants full of poop just about an hour after lunch was the understatement of the decade. Sierra Guzman hadn’t shit herself since the unfortunate “chili cheese dog incident” back in high school…
“Officer Guzman, please respond…” The dispatch’s voice was heavy with annoyance. Sierra picked up the hand set, licked her lips nervously, and hit the button.
“This is Guzman,” she responded stiffly, “come back.”
The radio crackled. “We’ve got an accident in your area,” (no shit, Sierra thought, her stomach rolling as she thought about the gooey mudslide in her pants) “are you able to assist?”
“NO!” she answered quickly. Her stomach rolled—immediately after the word left her mouth, she felt a god-awful rumble in her belly. Her bowels gurgled, her rectum filled. There was instant pressure on her sphincter, and she suddenly felt as though she were trying to hold in a hundred pound weight.
A second later, it became a thousand pounds; she made a heroic effort, but fell tragically short. Another mess came bubbling into her pants. Gasping, she unconsciously stood, inadvertently displaying the badly stained seat of her pants to everyone behind her. She planted her feet, face going red as she uncontrollably messed herself. Beside her, a group of college girls in a hot convertible looked on in disbelief. “OH MY GOD!” Sierra heard one cry, “SHE SHIT HER PANTS!”
“Who?” someone else asked.
“THAT COP RIGHT THERE!”
“EWWWWW!” the entire car cried at once, watching in disbelief as Sierra filled her pants. Instantly, four purses snapped open and four cell-phones came out. She was mortified beyond belief, but knew she had to explain herself to the dispatcher—fast!
“I uh—I had a blowout on I-19--” she exploded into her pants, making this statement at least partially true. Behind her the college girls tut-tutted, capturing her inflating seat from every angle. “I’m gonna need some time to change the tire,” she added, causing further eruption in her trousers.
“Uh, are you ok, officer Guzman?” the dispatcher asked in a detached voice.
“I’m just a little—messy…” she whispered, shifting from foot to foot nervously.
“What’d you say? ‘Messy?’”
“What? NO! I-I’m sick—I’m sick and I need the afternoon off!” She tried to keep quiet as she added further installment to the pile in her slacks.
“What? Guzman, you need to contact the supervisor--”
“I’ll do it when I finish the tire!” she assured, grimacing as another load came mushing out into her pants.
“So wrong…” one of the girls commented, zooming in on Sierra’s lumpy, brown seat as it inflated even further.
“Guzman… are you in some kind of trouble?”
The light turned green. “Oh, gotta go, call you back later!” she cried. Settling back on her bike with an audible squish, she shifted into gear and took off across the intersection.
---
She managed to get home without any problems, and she navigated the lobby and elevator of her building without being seen. But when she got up to her floor, she saw Mrs. Peabody, her nosy, crotchety neighbor was out in the hallway. She tried to sneak past, but she could see the old woman’s nose twitching as she approached. Straitening, the old biddy fixed Sierra with her filthiest look and placed her hands on her hips. “Young lady!” she scolded, sniffing the air disapprovingly. “I sincerely hope that unpleasant odor isn’t coming from you!”
“No ma’am!” Sierra answered without thinking. BBRRAPPPTT! With an audible fart, she blasted another hot load into her pants. Mrs. Peabody wrinkled her nose disapprovingly. “It’s—the sewer!” FFFBBLORT! She erupted into her underwear. “They’re—working on the sewer outside…” PPHHORT! Another explosion, another mudslide into her seat. Mrs. Peabody stared, disbelieving and disapproving.
Slowly, careful not to expose her seat to her nosy neighbor, Sierra slowly waddled to her door, stiffly undid the lock, and shuffled slowly inside.
---
She slammed the door shut behind her and let out a shaky breath. For the first time since her ‘accident’ she felt like she could relax. Her first thought was to head into the bathroom, but before she could make a move, she heard that awful man’s voice in her head: ‘…find a nice, hard chair, put down some newspaper if you have to, and sit your poopy buns down in that mess and really concentrate on how it makes you feel. Do that for ten minutes…’
She knew she wouldn’t be able to resist without even trying; there was just something about the way he said it that left no doubt in her mind she had to follow his instructions. In the living room, she pulled out one of her hard, wooden chairs from around the table, checked the clock, and, with a heavy sigh, sat once more with an audible squish. Frowning, she struggled and failed to find a more comfortable position, sighed, and checked the clock. Squirming in her seat with a massive load in her pants, she tried not to think about that horrible man, the one who’d done this to her, but she kept replaying the incident again and again in her mind. She nearly cried when she thought about the last thing he’d told her—she’d hoped it was a sick joke, but she was pretty sure the last 15 minutes had proven otherwise. She was going to need a little protection for the foreseeable future—diapers, she realized with a fiery blush.
She cursed the man again. How dare he do this to an officer of the law! She thought about reporting it, using her status as a cop to hunt the bastard down, but she quickly nixed the idea; after all, what was she going to tell people? “The guy made me shit my pants a bunch of times?” just the thought of another person knowing about this was enough to make her want to cry.
She almost did cry when she thought of the man again. There was no point in denying that she’s been attracted to him in an offhand sort of way. The thought of filling her pants in front of—on duty, no less—was enough to make her crawl into a hole. The knowledge that he’d been responsible in some way made her feel as though she’d literally die of embarrassment.
She looked at the clock. Ten minutes had gone by. She stood, grimacing when she felt the mess shifting in her pants. Bow-legged, she waddled into the bathroom.
His words rang in her head: ‘With your back to the mirror, take down your pants slowly and study your poopy panties.’ She turned her back to the mirror and glanced over her shoulder, blushing when she saw the huge stain on the back of her pants. Slowly undoing her belt, she tugged down her tight pants, groaning as her underwear came into view. Formerly pink, the back panel of the cotton briefs were now stained a messy brown. The seat was lumpy and dimpled, and there were twin smears down the backs of her thighs.
‘Now take them down and see what your messy hiney looks like.’ Slowly and carefully, she peeled the panties away from her poopy rump and took them down all the way, tossing them in the trash and leaving her naked from the waist down. Reluctantly, she checked the mirror behind her. She blushed more furiously than she ever had; her entire rear end was a mess, her cheeks smeared brown, the mushy mess caked inside her butt crack and trailing down her thighs.
She stripped and jumped into the shower. Sierra couldn’t remember that last time she’d enjoyed a shower this much. She must’ve soaped her ass for half an hour at least. She never wanted it to end, but she knew she had to get out and face the music eventually. With a heavy sigh, she turned off the water and climbed out.
___
The drugstore was packed.
She’d deliberately dressed down in baggy sweats. She did this for two reasons: the first was because she wanted to attract as little attention as possible, and had always thought the sweats were the least flattering thing she owned. Unfortunately, she was also pretty sure she still managed to look pretty good in them anyway (which was also true). The second was sheer practicality: she was desperate to avoid drawing attention to the diaper she knew she was going to wind up walking out of here wrapped around her gorgeous bubble-butt.
She knew she needed diapers. That wasn’t even open for debate. She had toyed with the idea of waiting until she got home to put one on, but nixed the idea, worried that she’d be forced into a situation where she’d be forced to or accidently lie. She didn’t think that the diapers would keep any accidents totally hidden, but she hoped she could at least cut down on the mess.
Into the adult diapers section now; she tried not to look too conspicuous as she browsed through the different packages. She frowned—this was more complicated than I thought. Why didn’t I do some research on the internet before I came? She thought bitterly scanning the different packages for the one that looked most suited for her situation.
“Do you need some help?” Sierra turned toward the voice. The clerk’s tag identified her as Marge. She was about 40, quite pretty, with a maternal look about her.
“N-” Sierra got out the first syllable of a no, but a sharp cramp in her belly made her cry “YES! YES, I DO!”
“Are these for you, dear?”
Sierra squirmed and blushed. “Does that really make a difference?”
“Well, we have to get the size right dear.”
She forced herself to say the words: “Yes, they are.”
“It’s ok, dear.” Marge’s smile was sickeningly benevolent. “What sort of problems are you having?”
It took her a moment to frantically stifle her first instinct to lie. “I--” she swallowed. “I—I—I’ve been having some—problems—with my bowels…”
Sierra was so embarrassed. Marge’s understanding smile just made it worse. “It’s ok, dear. No need to be embarrassed. I think I’ve got just the thing. You wait right here.”
Marge bustled through a set of double-doors and into the back. Sierra was left surrounded by diapers; each second ticked away like an hour. A couple of small boys stopped and stared at her, then ran away giggling, followed by a young couple who walked by slowly, nudging each other and chuckled in her direction.
But nothing could prepare her for what was about to happen. From behind her she heard “Isn’t that her?”
“Yeah it is! It’s that cop who shit herself!”
She turned around quickly and came face to face with the college girls from before. At that moment, Sierra willed herself to die, but somehow she continued living on in spite of her supreme humiliation. Stupidly, she answered with “Who, me?!”
“Yeah you: How’s it going, poopy-pants?”
She tried to think of something, but in her burning shame, she couldn’t think of anything true, and so could only stand there stammering dumbly “I—I—I—I—“
“--Shit yourself,” one of them finished for her, “yeah, we saw, remember?”
The girls started laughing. Sierra could only shift from foot to foot in humiliation as a small crowd gathered. A couple of them had pulled their phones and were aiming them at her menacingly.
“So—stocking up on some new depends, officer poopy-pants?” Another girl, obviously the leader, asked, indicating the diapers stacked all around.
“N--” She felt her belly rumble. “YES!” she cried, making the audience burst out laughing.
“Oh officer Poopy-Pants,” one of the girls said between guffaws, “what are we to do with you?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but before she could make a sound, Marge returned and thrust an enormous package into her arms. “Here you go dear,” she said with a strange pride, “these should do the trick.” The package was light, but cumbersome, and so huge she had to carry it with both arms out in front, pressed up against her chest and resting against her chin. The audience exploded into laughter when they saw the lettering on the front.
“Mega-Dumper-Diaper!” the package declared in large letters. “For Super Poopers!” it bragged on the bottom in neon print. “For Big Girls!” it said in dainty lettering near the bottom. “XL junk in trunk” it said beneath that. The audience was in hysterics, the camera operators trying desperately to steady their grips and zoom in so they could get the lettering. It was like she was carrying a large signboard declaring her an overgrown, pants pooping baby who needed diapers.
But Sierra couldn’t see it from her vantage; Marge ripped the top of the package open and pulled one out. “These are the most heavy duty diapers we have,” Marge said, proudly, unfolding one. It looked like it was made out of pillows. “We’re not allowed to stock it out front due to its, ahem, unfortunate packaging…”
“’Unfortunate packaging’?!”
But Sierra didn’t have long to worry about that. Marge, ever helpful, had walked around behind her and pulled down her pants and underwear, leaving her naked from the waist down in front of the entire crowd. “Hey, what are you doing?!” she shrieked, so shocked she stupidly continued to stand there with the package in her arms and her pants around her knees as the audience whooped and laughed.
Sierra could only stand there dumbly, bare butt and bush flapping in the breeze. “I’m just helping you get it on, dear,” Marge said, readying the diaper.
“Hey, no, stop! Pull my pant’s back up!”
Oh, hush!” Marge said. She delivered a hard spank to Sierra’s bare butt, making her jump and squeal. The audience laughed, clearly enjoying this entertainment.
Squatting beside her, Marge slipped the diaper between her thighs. “Oh my goodness,” Sierra heard her remark, pulling it up tight against her crotch, “I see we’re getting this on just in time... you’ve got a nasty skid mark in your panties dear!”
The crowd howled at this revelation, but Marge took no notice, carrying on with her lesson. “Make sure it’s nice and snug,” she instructed, “then pull it up nice and tight against your bottom. Now: do up the three tabs on each side…” she heard six tearing sounds in rapid succession. She stood up and admired her handiwork.
Sierra didn’t need to see the diaper to know it looked ridiculous… For one thing, the audience’s raucous laughter announced it to her and everyone else in the neighborhood. For another, she couldn’t even bring her thighs together.
In fact, it looked like she’d been strapped into the world’s biggest, fluffiest pillow. Her ass stuck way out behind her, and the padding was so thick there was no was she’d be able to walk without waddling.
She stood immobilized by humiliation, the audience cackling all around her as Marge walked around ad adjusted the diaper.
In that moment, Sierra Guzman was overcome by embarrassment. And, like many people do in those situations, she did something stupid.
“THERE’S BEEN A MISUNDERSTANGING!” she cried. “THESE AREN’T FOR ME!!” she insisted at the top of her lungs.
A cramp; she clenched her ass, but it was no use. Sierra heard herself fart, barely muffled even by her big diaper. She gasped, feeling a massive mess pour into the back of her pants uncontrollably, not even noticeable outside her diaper.
“Oh dear,” she heard Marge say beside her.
But Sierra couldn’t help herself. “THEY’RE FOR—MY GRANDMOTHER!” She told them, farting another mudslide into her diaper, making the back of her expand visibly. The crowd was alternately laughing and gagging from the stench that permeated the air.
She knew she should stop, knew she was just making things worse, but she just couldn’t stop herself. “I DON’T SHIT MY PANTS!” she insisted, drawing derisive laughter, her messy pamper and package of “Mega-Dumper-Diapers” calling counterpoint to her statement, even before she began to noisily fill her pants once more.
She stood there for a long moment, never more humiliated in her entire life. Finally Marge took her arm.
“Come along, dear, let’s get you cleaned up,” she urged, taking her arm and dragging her toward the ladies toilet. Sierra waddled along behind her, pants around her knees, trying not to squish the mess in her pants too much, the laughter of the crowd ringing out behind her.
---
Marge dragged her into the ladies room and shut the door behind her. “Ok, honey,” she said firmly, pulling her pants and panties off over her shoes, “let’s get this messy diaper changed.” She ripped open the tabs and pealed the messy pamper away from Sierra’s skin. “Whew!” She declared, crinkling her nose, “that’s a very big mess!”
Sierra, for her part, could only stand there blushing as Marge went to work, cleaning her messy backside with paper-towels and toilet paper. She grimaced, the rough paper scratching at her tender ass. She contemplated protesting, but what would be the point. Besides, it sure beat having to clean off her own poopy butt.
Soon, Marge had another diaper tugged up and sealed around her bottom.
“Time to get your pants back on, honey.” But when they tried, they discovered there was no way there were going to be able to get it up over her thickly padded bottom. The diaper was simply much too big for even her biggest pair of pants to fit over. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to carry them,” she said cheerfully, setting them on top of the package of diapers Sierra was still hefting around.
“But—But I can’t go out there like this! I look ridiculous!”
“Don’t be silly!” Marge said, ushering her out the door with a swat to her bulging derrière, “You have a medical problem! I’m sure people will understand.”
Sierra stumbled out of the ladies room and back into the pharmacy. The patrons looked up, saw her standing there in a huge bulky diaper, and burst out laughing. It was hard to blame them; between the massive, bulky pamper wrapped around her tushy and the large package declaring her a “Super-Pooper,” Sierra was forced to admit that she did look absurd. With a shameful blush, she made her way to the checkout.
She made a bee-line for the self check-out, eager to avoid any more contact with overzealous clerks. She scanned her package, prompting the till to emit a loud and enthusiastic BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP! “Oh God,” she sobbed to herself, “ what now?”
The attendant came over, looked her up and down, and grabbed the phone. “I need a price-check for ‘mega-dumper-diapers’ size xl-junk-in-trunk,” she announced over the PA. Soon the entire store was up in arms, everyone in the place laughing uproariously—except for poor Sierra, who could only stand-by blushing and humiliated.
--
Sierra slammed the apartment door behind her. After suffering one devastating humiliation after the next, it felt great to be home. She waddled inside, still naked from the waist down but for her diaper, socks and shoes. Her many, many humiliations still stoked a shameful fire inside her, but at least she was home now, where she could put it all behind her.
Sitting at her computer (it would take a while to get used to the mass of cotton fluffiness beneath her), she opened her browser. She was about to check her e-mail when something caught her eye:
“One Shitty cop!” the link declared. Heart in her throat, she clicked the link and was treated to grainy, cell-phone footage of herself shitting her pants at the red-light earlier. Her shame threatened to overwhelm her as she watched the already stained seat of her pants grow darker and lumpier by the second—and you could even hear it!
This was followed by footage of her being harassed in the pharmacy, her getting diapered, pooping her diaper, and being dragged off to the living room. Sierra thought she would die of humiliation when she realized that not-only had multiple copies from multiple different angels been uploaded, people had already started remixing it, adding music and special effects. Her private shame had turned into a very public Meme.
Turning off her computer, she waddled her bulky bottom into her room, lay face down on her bed, and began to cry.
Babes In Diapers
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