Back To Training Pants
by
Mellow-Sadistic
abdldiapersnappiesforcedregressionabdlcaption
Description
“That was so embarrassing!” Terry whined as she stepped inside her house, the woman who’d been appointed as her ‘Nanny’ following close behind. “Why did you have to make me sit in a stupid car seat? And why do you drive me to and from work in the first place? I can drive perfectly fine by myself!”
“I know you can, sweetie,” Nanny said patiently, “but it’s important that you get used to being dependent. Your regression sentence might be a light one, but the court appointed me as your Nanny for the next three years, and it’s my job to take care of you.” She slipped off Terry's dress and let it pool at the young woman’s feet, exposing her full chest and bra, and the thick cotton training pants between her legs. “So apart from the journey home, how was your first day back at work?” she asked kindly, noting with satisfaction that the front of Terry's pull-ups were slightly discoloured.
“It was awful!” Terry scowled. “They all made fun of me, and everyone kept asking to see my… to see my… my undies.”
“Poor baby,” Nanny cooed sympathetically. “But you can hardly blame them, can you? It is pretty silly, after all. A grown woman who’s still in potty training!” She let out a giggle.
“I’m not still in potty training!” Terry said angrily. But then she felt a sudden, hard spank to her rear, and she shut her mouth quickly.
Nanny didn’t come across as particularly strict, but even though Terry had only been in her custody for a couple of hours total, excluding the time she’d been at work, she’d learned that the woman was quick with a smack, and she had a firm hand. She wasn’t looking forward to her first trip over Nanny’s lap; so far Nanny had restricted herself to swatting her bottom while she stood, but Terrycould tell she was itching to administer a proper, over-the-knee spanking.
“Oh yes you are, little missy,” she said sternly. “You may not be in nappies, but you are most certainly not toilet trained. Not anymore. Your regression sentence made it quite plain that you will be spending the next three years in a state of perpetual potty training, living the partial lifestyle of a toddler. So let’s try that again. Are you potty trained yet, Tori?”
Blushing to the roots of her hair, Terry mumbled, “Not yet, Nanny.”
“Do you wear panties?”
“No, Nanny.”
“What do you wear, Terry ?”
“I wear… I wear pull-ups, Nanny.”
“That’s right. And can you use the grown-up toilet?”
“Only… only while I’m at work, Nanny.”
“And while you’re at home?”
“At home I have to… I have to use my potty.” Terry felt like she was about to cry.
“But you don’t always make it in time, do you Terry?” Nanny asked sweetly, and Terry gritted her teeth. That was the rule she hated most. It was so ridiculous! Every time she used the toilet, she had to pee in her training pants for a few seconds first. It was disgusting. Terrycouldn’t stand the horrible sensation of wetting her pants, feeling her pee soak into her pull-ups and press against her skin. She’d felt totally absurd standing in front of the toilet at work and wetting herself deliberately, and Nanny’s assurances that she’d eventually start having accidents for real did nothing to make her feel better. It was like some horrible dream! All because she’d been caught inventing a few things for her newspaper column!
“No, Nanny, ” she said stiffly.
“No,” Nanny agreed, and then she started sniffing the air theatrically. “Uh-oh!” she sang happily. “I think Nanny smells wee-wee! Did little Terry have an accident today?”
Terrysquirmed on the spot and looked down at the floor, wishing it would swallow her up. Nanny reached out and slipped a finger into the front waistband of her training pants, pulling it out and peaking down at the yellowish padding inside. “Oopsie!” she trilled. “Silly girl, Terry You’re supposed to do your pee-pees in the potty, not your pants!” She let the waistband snap back, smiling broadly. Then she frowned a little, leaned close, and sniffed again. “Terry,” she said warningly, “I’ll let you off this time because I didn’t say it explicitly, but from now on perfume is a no-no. If you want something to cover up that icky wee-wee smell, then I’ll start putting baby powder on your tushy in the mornings, okay?”
Terry groaned. The smell of urine had followed her around all day. It would only be more obvious if she wasn’t allowed to wear perfume! But would smelling like baby powder really be any better?
“Yes, Nanny,” she pouted.
“Good girl. Now, let’s finish getting you undressed!”
Terry was pleased that she’d at least be allowed out of her yucky pull-ups, but instead of reaching for her training pants again, Nanny stepped behind her back and started to unclasp her bra.
“W-what are you doing?!” Terryasked, taken aback.
“Little girls don’t need bras, honey,” said Nanny. “You can have it back when I dress you for work tomorrow. You don’t need anything but your training pants when you’re playing around the house, okay?”
A flush rose to Terry's cheeks as her bra was pulled away, freeing her large breasts.
“Oh my goodness,” Nanny tittered. “You do have big boobies, don’t you baby? Look at the size of those knockers!”
Terryturned scarlet and lifted her hands to cover her chest, but Nanny smacked them away. “Uh-uh, sweetie. No covering up. You don’t have modesty anymore. If you’ve got big boobies, you’ll just have to let them jiggle about.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Now come along, Miss Melons,” she said with another giggle, taking Terry by the hand and leading her further into the house, “It’s potty time!”
Terryfelt disoriented by Nanny’s abrupt switch from treating her like a toddler to teasing her about her womanly chest, and she felt suddenly self-conscious about the way her breasts wobbled stupidly on her chest as she toddled along at Nanny’s side. But she was pulled out of her thoughts a moment later when she saw what was sitting on a little disposable mat in the middle of the living room. She’d known it was coming, of course, but it was quite another thing to actually see the large, pink, plastic potty chair sat in front of her, waiting.
“You know what to do,” said Nanny, patting her bottom gently, a smirk playing about her lips. “You must need to pee by now. I’d bet you were trying to pee as little as possible at work, so people wouldn’t notice the yucky smell.”
Terry shifted from foot to foot. Nanny was right. She had been holding it in for the last few hours of work. In hindsight, she wished she’d taken the opportunity to use the toilet there with some privacy, even if it meant risking snarky comments and taunts from her coworkers about her pissy pants.
“Go on, Terry,” said Nanny. “Do what you need to do. Then make sure you ask properly, like I explained this morning. Unless you’d like to skip potty time today and go straight into your night-time nappy?”
Terry whined inarticulately and shook her head. A few moments of silence passed, and then, with an effort, she started to pee. One second, two seconds, three, four, five. Then she clamped down hard on the stream of wee-wee that had been flooding her toddler pants. “Nanny, I need my potty!” she blurted, blushing furiously and clutching between her legs. After starting, it was difficult to stop, and as humiliating as it was, using a potty would be better than using her pants like a baby. “Please will you help me do a wee-wee?”
“Oh course I will, darling,” Nanny cooed, and she led Terry over to the potty. In one swift movement, she slid her training pants down her legs and lowered her plump bare bottom onto the seat.
Terry desperately avoided eye contact with Nanny as she let her bladder go again, and a tinkling noise filled the room. But she couldn’t stop herself letting out a sigh of relief.
“Good girl!” Nanny crooned, her voice sickeningly sweet. “What a big girl you are, Terry Well done for mostly making it!” She probed the pull-ups pooled around the younger woman’s ankles with her fingers, grinning at how wet they were after a full day of accidents. “You can almost always make it to the potty for wee-wees, can’t you honey? And you hardly ever make poo-poos in your pants, do you? Barely more than once a week!”
“Once a week?!” Terry squealed, looking up sharply, but she gulped when she saw the stern look in Nanny’s eyes, and she dropped her gaze back to her feet.
“That’s right, sweetie,” said Nanny, with a sinister airiness. “Once a week, and occasionally twice, is what I expect. And if it’s any less, you’ll be in trouble.”
Terry cringed. Wetting herself was already disgusting, and the thought of having to poop her pants at least once a week was enough to turn her stomach. “Yes, Nanny,” she whimpered, as her stream of pee slowed to a stop, and she was left perching on her potty, waiting for instructions.
“Good girl,” Nanny said happily. “Now stand up and Nanny will wipe your princess parts all clean, and then it’s into your night-time nappy and off to bed! There will be plenty of time for playtime later. You’ve had a busy day! Just remember, girls who aren’t potty trained can’t control themselves at night, so if your nappy isn’t wet and icky when I wake you up tomorrow morning, you’ll be going straight over my knee!”
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