Tuesday, 22 October 2019

Little Princess (Repost)

This is an old, unfinished story, which I'm re-posting because somebody asked and it disappeared during the DailyDiapers forum crash. This is loosely inspired by the character of Princess Azula

Chapter 1 – Usurper

Anita rode her horse hard. From behind her came the frantic yells of her retinue, begging her to slow down. But the capital was in sight, there was no need for such caution now. Leaving them fretting in her dust, her mouth began to curl into the usual sadistic grin which snuck across her face whenever she caused others to suffer. She loved being cruel, it fed on her ideology that it was a harsh world, and that her actions demonstrated her rightful position atop of it.

Amongst other things, Princess Anita was returning a war hero. The eastern war had been a smashing success, practically guaranteeing her country’s domination of the known world within several years, and she had been there in the middle of it as the commander. “Let’s see Father ignore that,” she told herself smugly, quelling the deeply nestled fury that came with remembering how he ignored her.

Anita was always gifted, a prodigy child some had said. But she was a girl, and her father had wanted a boy. He seemed happy to use her, to send her out to win wars. But when it came to actually respecting her - to considering her a viable candidate for the throne - he seemed to always overlook her. They had no relationship; to him she was his puppet, and to her he was just another player in her game for the crown. It was a game which had seen her mother banished when she was very young - an act which the cruel Anita had internally cheered while declaring her mother weak.

She was furious with her Father’s lack of respect however, even now it hurt. Her eyes narrowed, her nose screwed, and her bottom lip began to form a pout only ever seen in private. Gritting her teeth, she cruelly dug her heels into the horse’s side, speeding her journey and shortening the wait until a suitable distraction from her deep fury. She took it out on others – she knew that she did but she enjoyed it regardless. While on the outside she might often seem the sweet princess - now a stunning young woman - in reality, anybody that spent significant time around her discovered that she was a world-first unrivalled bitch. She constantly played off others against themselves, using her position and influence to insert herself into upper class social circles, and intimidate both men and women. She would lash out with her expertly cruel tongue whenever she saw the opportunity arise, and enjoy it entirely.

The horse’s hooves hit paved stone. She was flying through the streets of the capital now. Anita was surprised to find herself hit with the smallest amount of sentimental familiarity, finding returning to the capital to be comforting, like returning to a home. She had grown up here she reasoned, and had been away for months. Ahead the palace loomed, the sight filling her with a small sense of dread, but also fuelling her constant hunger for power. Riding toward it now she, found herself feeling on top of the world, smugly confident that it would one day be hers, by birthright.

To most she passed, Anita was a red blur. She was wearing a very light suit of feminised battle armour, made largely of flexible cloth with a few leather and steel guards, and a black ponytail sailed out behind her ducked head. Passing through the homes and business districts of some of the nation’s wealthiest families, she finally came upon the palace itself.

Anita was well ahead of her guard and retinue when she reached the gate. Her always towering ego saw an opportunity to cruelly test the guards, and she continued straight past the gate’s watch in the hope of tricking a poor sap into the grave mistake of halting and insulting the princess. She hadn’t been to the city in months, and sure enough they didn’t immediately recognise her. Her mouth twisted into a cruelly satisfied grin again as one of the guards yelled out for her to halt, and was joined by others as they ran to block her off.

She slowed her horse to a trot, and waited smugly for them to surround her. She intended to let them dig their hole before lashing out with her stinging tongue, and possibly even retributive power, if any of them so displeased her.

However the stupid minions didn’t seem to be picking up on it, and were even grabbing for the leather strap that ran her horse’s neck. In an instant her eyes narrowed, and her top lip curled into a snarl.

“How dare you touch the Princess’s mount without permission!” she hissed, genuinely angry now that one of them had touched her steed, and had completely forgotten that it was her own fault as she maintained her glare.

A guard to her front side, who appeared to not be any more senior amongst the group, begun to offer a surprised apology, “We didn’t… expect you back so soon, m’lady,” he offered, a little too casually.

“You were, however, expected today,” he continued, “if you will follow us?” he inquired inquisitively. He seemed rather un put-out by all of this, Anita fumed, considering he was party to the group who had just insulted the Princess. Anita decided that he would need to be punished for improper respect, later, once she had settled. These city guards weren’t yet used to treating her with the divine respect that she expected.

“I will return to my chambers, and visit the reception chambers when ready,” she brushed him off.

“It’s by order of his highness, m’lady,” he said, a little too dereverantly, with a hint of sternness. She was displeased yet again – but, the King had requested her? That was good news. That he had specifically requested to welcome the returning war hero, who just so happened to be his only valid heir to the throne. Anita’s resolve tightened, and she instantly begun to prepare herself for whatever ceremony might be ahead that she could twist to her favour.

“Fine,” she said, as if uninterested, still fully intending to see that her justice was carried out on the guard when possible. At a trot they set off, the guards flanking the princess. Lost in thought for a moment, she almost didn’t realise that something seemed off. After a moment she found herself uneased, unused to such discomfort in her own element. While she tried to maintain a dignified composure, something about the situation led her to darting her glance to the left and right, above and around, trying to spot anything that seemed amiss.

After a moment she realised. It was strange that the guards were flanking her, it was unlike an escort for a privileged princess. Their formation and movements weren’t deferential, it was more like they were escorting a prisoner who wouldn’t be allowed to escape. She began to feel unusual nervousness, her stomach tightening and palms misting, still unsure if anything was necessarily wrong.

When they reached the main outer doors leading to the great hall, the throne room itself, the ease did not let up, as the guards maintained their circle once she demounted her horse. Nobody offered to help, and no servant her brought her a refreshment.

“Guard,” she said, turning slightly with apparent disinterest to the same one who had spoken to her earlier, “I have not been attended, send for a drink, and perhaps a change of clothes.”

Instead of replying, he simply ushered a hand towards the main throne room, and instructed “This way.” Raw rage ran through her, nobody so ignored her, The Princess, like that. But at the same time the feeling of unease increased. Something was wrong. Anita didn’t handle wrong well, she expected to always win, and in an instant she replaced her fear with rage. Whatever was in her way, she would crush.

Maintaining her dignified exterior, she tramped on foot towards the looming outer doors, still flanked by guards. Thoughts ran through her calculating mind, she intended to come out of this well off, as always. Could her father be angry with her? She was a hero, she told herself angrily, if the fool was angry than perhaps it would indicate that it was time for a new ruler on the throne. Queen Anita had a nice ring to it, she thought, especially at such a young age.

The heavy doors were swung open, revealing a darkness beyond in comparison to the bright light of the mid morning. Anita didn’t miss a step as she marched in, even feeling more confident with each step. She did not accept losing, this would be a cinch, even if she didn’t know what exactly she faced yet. She had torn apart the egos of many high-society girls and princess alike - she was not afraid of her father.

Her eyes adjusted as they approached closer to the throne. Looking to her sides, she noted that the room was rather empty of any semblance of a court in session, and seemed to only be manned with guards lining the walls. There wasn’t even any hint of the kingdom’s ultimate crust of nobles here to greet her she fumed. How she loved showing them up, feeding on their envy and rage, and now none would see her first presentation upon returning home a military hero.

She didn’t particularly like her father, and was not so enthusiastic to see him. Eventually when she had almost reached the elevated throne itself, she looked up to make eye contact with the King himself, presenting her best daughterly smile to the nearly unknown man that was her father.

Except it wasn’t him.

Sitting upon the throne, a little too rigidly, was a young man. Little more than a boy it seemed, though not necessarily any younger than herself. With jet black hair and the King’s crown of gold sitting confidently upon his head, he looked down at her with stern but confused eyes.

She froze, her momentary confident smile nearly wiped clean.

“Hello cousin,” he said flatly, not betraying a hint of emotion.

Edward. Her exiled cousin Edward was sitting upon the throne. Her throne. Anita’s eyes widened and her stomach tightened with rage, quickly reaching an intensity which she very rarely experienced.

Anita stood perfectly still for a moment, her shocked silence masking her internal battle. She was unsure exactly what this meant, but she immediately knew that it was going to cause her problems. In the moment of silence, her face slowly crept towards the aggressive snarl she so often wore.

Prince Edward motioned to the guards, and they fanned out to line the sides of the chamber, apparently less worried about the princess escaping now that she was in a closed room. As the last of the guards took to his post and the clattering of armour quieted down, the princess recomposed herself. Anita, being the flexible manipulator that she was, had already rediscovered her eternally confident self. She blurted out the first thought that came to her mind.

“You were exiled!”


His face and tone revealed nothing.

“And so why are you sitting on the throne?” she demanded, edging towards one of her hysterias.

“Why do you think?” He held his eyes steady, steeled against insolence, but also revealing a hint of amusement.

“Because you’re a traitor and have stolen the crown, that’s what!” she spat back, only half in control of her calculating nature, and resorting to her more primal indignant rage.

“Funny,” he said calmly, “given that the crown was stolen by our mutual great grandfather, who everybody now calls a hero.”

“You’re not a hero like he was,” she glared back, “he was a conqueror.”

“He started a never-ending war, which has cost us generations of lives.”

She was incredulous. Such traitorous talk from the likes of those too sappily romantic regarding the importance of the commoner’s life, it was nothing next to the power that conquest gave kings.

“Funny how it’s all so ‘bad’ to the man who happens to have been fighting on the losing side his whole life,” she taunted.

It didn’t work, he was unmoved.

“No. It’s very unfunny how ok you are with it you are. She who just so happened to be on the winning side.”

Anita scoffed. She only knew victory, and had towering confidence in her guaranteed success in all endeavours. That she was on the winning side was just further proof of her superiority, in her mind, that the idea that her actions could possibly be wrong was not something which she would ever bother to consider. She emphasised with nobody, and saw no other as her equal, only subservient subjects and game pieces to be used toward her own glory.

“How did you get the throne?” she asked, genuinely disinterested with his previous statement, and changing the topic to more pressing matters. She did not know how to deal with being thwarted, but with her towering ego, she remained confident that she would easily be sitting on the throne soon enough, despite all this.

He took some time to answer. “It may surprise you,” he began, “ - but it was the people. The people worked to bring me back. The people wanted an end to this endless war, and the people are the ones who secretly begged me to become their king, even despite my initial refusal to sit on such a dirtied throne.”

Anita felt nauseous with rage. Traitors throughout her kingdom, she would root them all out.

Edward continued. “My coronation is a week from now, Anita. They wanted me, you could never rule them - nobody wants you to be queen. I rule by the will of the people.”

Anita glared and spat back, “I would cut them down like flies, and show them true power!” She was incensed that there had been an entire rebellion which occurred under her nose - her the great plotter and manipulator, who had known nothing about it while she was gone. They must have worked hard to keep her command out of the loop, Anita had spies everywhere, but, she realised with distaste, they were all focused toward the war during her campaign.

Edward sat back, contemplating her threat to the people. Her surety of being able to rule by fear.

“Maybe,” he said sadly, revealing to Anita that the fool even cared for the stupid cattle, disgusted that he didn’t understand that they existed only to elevate the more deserving Royalty.

“Or, more likely,” he continued, “you would create a great deal of sadness and pain, and would be pulled from the throne anyway.”

Anita scoffed. It was her right to rule. She was the best. Such a rebellion would never succeed. She changed the subject again.

“Where is the true king?”

“In prison, facing trial.” Edward answered, revealing a small hint of anger when he discussed the man.

“It’s going to be long and difficult, and he’ll likely not live very long if the people have their way,” he continued, the fool seemed sad again. “Despite my misgivings about the man, I intend to see that he lives.”

The talk of mercy only made Anita more furious. She felt it insulted her somehow, it was not something she could understand.

“You know this will never – “ she began.

“Shut up.” He warned her.

She was stunned, and then furious, nobody talked to her that way.

“I swear I will make you regret ever – “

“You are not going to be doing anything,” he said, a little smugly. “You are my prisoner now.”

The point brought her back to reality, when she realised with the sickening realisation that she was surrounded by guards, in a hostile king’s court. It tore at her confidence, her casual belief in her guaranteed success. She spent a moment in sneering silence, quickly contemplating exactly what she should do now.

And with that, she was off, sprinting for an open window which the guards had not thought to stand between.

Behind her they started, but she was fast. Being a prodigy child in most every area, she was a capable runner in her own right.

She took a flying leap and managed to hook onto the adult-sized window’s lower edge. The previously unknown condition of sweaty palms betrayed her however, and confidence turned to shock when she lost her grip and fell, tripped, and landed on her rear. For the first time in her life, Anita seemed to not be succeeding.

In a panic, she threw herself at the window again, latching onto an outcropping brick with two hands and scrambling wildly. Feet and derrière flailed with increasing hysteria, but the guards were upon her - and hands around her waist they were pulling her down.

“No!” she screamed, several times, as strong around her middle pulled her further away. “No!” she thrashed, having never been so handled.

“Anita!” Edward boomed with unsure confidence. “You stay still this instant!”

The command had no effect, and she was only growing wilder.

Soon the guard had her pinned and a fat man in a monk’s robe approached with a small bowl. A strange liquid was forced into the wild princess’s mouth, and with some spluttering most even managed to make it down her throat. A few furious tears escaped her face as she began to understand that she was powerless, that things were not going to work out the way she expected for perhaps the first time ever. She was unstoppable in her own mind, but that confidence was meeting an infuriating reality.

Whatever they had forced her to digest caused her to quickly numb. Anita was dragged on her armoured knees and unceremoniously dropped before Prince Edward still sitting upon the throne. Where she kneeled, a small amount of drool escaping her slackening mouth, and she found herself desperately hoping that the story of this would never reach the social circles that she often so cruelly taunted.

Edward descended from his podium and moved closer to the princess’s side, where he crouched calmly in stark contrast to the slightly slobbering girl on her knees. At this close range he could talk softly without the guards at the edge of the room hearing, and he began to whisper quietly into her ear.

“Do you remember,” he begun “when we were kids? How I was older, and was always trying to protect you? To help you?”

She didn’t answer, and just glared at the back edge of his head of hair sitting next to her face. Furiously she did her best, but was too numb to do anything.

He continued, “You hurt me so bad, even then. You began demanding that I diminish myself. To serve on you. You got me in trouble all the time, and made me give you my favourite toy, just to ‘prove my loyalty’.” He trailed off on that thought for a moment, clearly sad.

“So what?” Anita hissed back angrily. “Why complain? I’m your superior and you should have been more willing to see it. Oh did poor baby Edward feel upset that somebody was better than him?” She laughed a little, although it came out more as a gurgle to her embarrassment.

He stopped, and turned his head to now look directly at her. She was beautiful, he surprisingly noticed. If she ever did get out, she might even have some success at leading a rebellion if people took to rallying behind the pretty queen - even though they hated her father. He knew that he must protect them from that at all costs. Anita, as she was now, was a monster. She could not be let out there.

“And do you remember how you declared that I was disloyal in front of the king one day, said that I was trying to depose you and command you? When all I was trying to do, was calmly talk to you about being more understanding, about being more careful before making demands.” He sounded a little angry now, Anita enjoyed hearing how easily she had hurt him, how much power she had.

With a step he moved to her centre, looking her dead in the eye. “That got me exiled Anita. And for years I still held onto hope that you might have seen how wrong of you that was, how cruel your actions were.”

She didn’t feel very elegant as she managed to look past him and scoff. She’d made her point about her royal claim, meaning he was just dead wrong she decided, and wasn’t sure if she could even formulate a response in her state if she tried.

He looked sad, but then steadied himself, and proceeded to stand again at full height.

“After you made me give up my favourite toy, I was upset. My nanny consoled me, and said you were a wicked child. I told her no, that you were just being a bit silly, but that I still cared for you. Loved you.”

Nothing seemed to be getting through to her, but she was definitely hearing the words, so he continued.

“After you got me exiled, my nanny comforted me, and said again and again that you were a wicked naughty child. That she would spank your ass raw if she ever could. She even swore, in fact, that if one day she ever got a hold of you, she would re-raise you from the little monster that you were, to be a nicer, proper girl.”

Anita didn’t like this conversation. It was annoying and overly sentimental. She managed to look up at him and sneer, “So what? I’m all grown up now, it’s a bit too late for that, joke’s on you.”

“Is it?” he wondered out loud, trailing off.

Anita felt she was winning this stupid tat. He was, after all, revealing a stupid wishy washy weakness, talking only nonsense about hopeful dreams long since passed.

“Well your Nanny isn’t around now is she,” she mocked, hissing.

“No, she isn’t,” he replied sadly, “she’s retired now, and I don’t think disturbing her would be the nicest thing to do. I’m sure she’ll be proud enough once she finds out about my ascension, about my coronation next week.”

“But I do think it was an excellent idea, a very good idea in fact. Imagine, re-raising the most horrible princess in the world, having her grow up again to be the sweet angel cousin I never had!”

He was nuts and stupid, she thought smugly. She wished they could get back to more direct matters, instead of this childhood fantasy.

“That is why,” he continued, “I found a new Nanny. A better Nanny, considering. She’s larger, very large, and strong! And she’s fully open to the idea. She’s a bit younger too, which is good because it could be a many years-long job, considering it normally takes eighteen after all. Nor is she personally invested with all that anger at you, which is preferable, since her job is not about hating you, but is purely about re-rais –“

The colour completely drained from Anita’s face. “Wait,” she interrupted, not sure that she wanted to hear the answer but having to ask anyway, “ - you got me a nanny?”

There was a long pause. Anita looked genuinely fearful for perhaps the first time in her life. It was outside the realm of anything that she ever expected or imagined - sounding genuinely humiliating to a young lady of such power and propriety.

It took him a moment to respond, locking his eyes with her avoidant gaze until she bought her vision to meet him.

Edward simply answered “Yes.”

Chapter 2 – Trial by Spanking

Anita wore a snarl as she was marched down a corridor by a single guard, Edward trailing not far behind. Her hands were tied behind her back, and the numbing potion that they had fed her was still largely keeping her subdued. She stumbled and tripped, often deliberately, but the guard always kept her upright. The spoiled princess was not used to failure however, and kept struggling, expecting at any moment to make her glorious escape.

They were moving toward the centre back of the palace, approaching the entrances to the several separate wings which jutted from the sides of the many-sided building.

Anita’s blood ran cold when they stopped in front of two large wooden doors with a curved top. She recognised this place, though she had not been here for many years.

“The Royal Nursery” Edward announced happily, apparently now allowing himself to display his previously subdued pleasure.

Anita knew it well, they had grown up there together, before he was exiled. It was designed to protect royal heirs, which meant that nobody got in, but at the same time, nobody got out. Anita had tried, when she was much smaller and able to fit through gaps more easily. She knew what a good prison it would make, from experience.

She felt a similar pang of calming nostalgia to that which had filled her when she had first entered the capital. The very memory of the place made her feel small, and she could almost smell the talcum scented rooms again. Though more strongly she sensed an overwhelming impending humiliation, and an incredible desire to flee.

As if reading her mind, Edward answered the question racing through her head, “There’ll be guards stationed at both the entrance and the hidden entrance at all times. I’ve even restored the garden terrace balcony, but I assure you that the stone wall is impossible to climb.”

Anita knew it was, the slick wall stood three times an adult’s height and made of the smoothest stone, nobody had ever succeeded. Besides, it just led into the gardens of the castle grounds anyway. There were still more walls after that. Even somebody of her skills would struggle if she reached it that far.

Her brow furrowed, Anita simply stared at the doors, willing herself to not have to go in there. If it had been a moment longer she might have thought she was actually succeeding, but Edward interrupted, cheerfully stating “In we go!” with a happiness that made the ever cruel Anita want to make him suffer.

The guard pushed, while Edward held the princess, and the two large wooden doors opened into the the royal nursery. Across the main chamber’s foyer, the far wall curved into a half circle play area, heavily padded by multiple rugs and carpets, which were themselves covered in various toys from blocks to rattles to dolls, and even a wooden rocking horse.

Returning to this place caused the usually cunning Anita to feel surreally helpless. She found herself without the usual mental clarity to form a plan, and felt as she had back when she belonged here - small. Her mind seemed to be automatically reverting in part to its younger state, and there was an innate helplessness, a reflexive impulse to be obedient to “grown ups” which came from deep inside her. The long outgrown sense of self came back in all its glory with the smells and the sight of the place.

Edward, however, seemed exceptionally happy. The bastard had been dreaming about this ever since childhood, Anita realised in agitation.

“You can leave us now, thank you,” he instructed to the remaining guard, who promptly bowed and left, pulling shut the large door with a thud on his way.

Edward stood silently for a moment, he was experiencing the memories of returning to this place for himself, though apparently was not unhappy for it. He lead the weakened Anita toward the centre of the room and let her go, where she unceremoniously sunk to her knees. Her face ebbed from twisted rage to a scared confusion as her eyes stared dumbly at the red diamonded carpet which she had spent years of her childhood upon – something which she had completely forgotten and came back as a surprise.

“You can’t –“ she began angrily, losing her voice for a moment, before managing to speak at a whisper. “You can’t.. re-raise me. I won’t do it. It won’t work.” She took two long heavy breaths before snarling, “Do you know who I am?”

“Oh Anita,” he replied, apparently now even showing amusement that the guards were gone, “You have no idea what Nanny is capable of.”

The reminder sent a chill down her spine. That she, the all powerful Princess Anita, apparently now had a Nanny. A woman who Edward considered a “good Nanny” no less.

“Speaking of – “ Edward continued, looking around for a moment before disappearing into one of the several doorways off of the main chamber.

Anita looked around miserably. As she looked at the toys piled up in the curved alcove on the far wall, she realised that she and Edward must have been the last inhabitants here, nothing appeared to have changed.

But things had changed on the outside, she told herself angrily. There she had made a name for herself, there she was poised to take over the world.

And then she realised. Edward was gone. There appeared to be no guards stationed yet, this might be her only chance. With all of her strength, she heaved herself onto all fours, and begun clumsily crawling for the door. She felt humiliated, crawling so pathetically, but clenched her teeth and grunted. She was going to make this, of course, why did she ever doubt herself? She was the ever beautiful and powerful Princess Anita, this daring escape would just be part of her legend. They’d say how she was taken so close to the fire and escaped her maniacal cousin in the moment before it began, it would seem so brave of her.

Derrière swinging in the air behind her, the rightful heir to the most powerful throne in the world crawled faster and faster, a determined stare at the door marking her path. She was so focused on the task at hand that she didn’t notice the Nanny step up behind her, and squealed like a frightened child when two large hands reached under her stomach and lifted her from the ground. Her face turned red as she realised that she had been crawling like an excited toddler, and now was being picked up like one.

“Isn’t she cute?” Edward mocked, standing in the doorway from where he had disappeared. Anita noted that he had an enthusiasm for her babification which was beginning to frighten her. She was the master of diminishment, but for the first time somebody was managing to turn it around on her with full force.

She was turned and then cradled in the massive arms of the woman who had picked her up. Anita found herself staring dumbly at the brutish face which looked down on her. She rarely allowed herself to show such mindless shock, but The Nanny was huge, causing Anita to curse several times in her head while her wide eyes realised what she was in for. She found herself being cradled uncomfortably close to a pair of giant heaving bosoms - the Nanny had arms like tree trunks and her thick air was braided in giant curls at the side of her head. Anita swore she may well be a giant, straight out of a story book.

Anita was turned over the Nanny’s shoulder, and the incredulous princess turned crimson as she felt one hand rest itself under her butt, bracing her. The woman turned to face Edward, her charge well contained in her arms, and simply nodded before carrying Anita off into one of the several adjourning doorways.

She watched with wide eyes as the doorway passed her eyes and the main chamber was left behind her. They were going deeper, and now were in a rather dark passageway. It suddenly hit her just how real this was. In a way, a faint distant part of it almost felt nice - being looked after, being loved for once. But she snapped out of it, and the humiliation and indigence of it washed over her.

She started struggling, doing what added up to nothing against incredibly strong arms while already numbed beyond even walking. It was pitiful, and the large woman shushed her dismissively. Anita had never felt so powerless, and it took her a moment to recover from the dismissal. She pushed harder, furious as she was bounced along with her backside resting firmly against this woman’s palm. The woman shushed again, and this time removed the hand that she was using to support Anita’s back, which she used to swat the girl’s rump once, hard, before returning the hand to support the princess.

“You be good” she commanded in a booming voice.

Anita pouted, there was nothing that she could do, and that spank had shocked her with its sting. Nobody spanked the princess she fumed. It caused a rush of emotions within her, from feelings of a long-lost mental connection between those who loved her and those who were willing to punish her, to overwhelming humiliation, to the foundation of a grudging childish submission to the nanny

She realised what had happened, to some extent, and was frightened. Nobody commanded the princess’s emotions with a single smack. Nobody was able to enter her hardened mind and fill the painful void of love that she had long grown accustomed to. She twisted, spat, and even unhooked an arm from where her captor’s bearlike arm squeezed it against her body to make feeble swipes at the Nanny’s face.

“Petulant child.” The Nanny stated, much more angrily now.

Anita knew she was in trouble, big trouble. She shuddered at the thought. Somewhere within her she felt wrong for being disobedient, here, in her nursery. And she realised what was coming when she watched the Nanny reach for a wooden paddle on the wall, her wide eyes darting to the wall that Nanny was then approaching.

Standing the girl several foot out from the wall, the Nanny bent her over and instructed her to touch her toes.

Anita whimpered. Before entering this room, any day before today, she would have been fighting back tooth and nail and never submitting at all. But today’s events had shaken her, the raw size of the Nanny intimidated her, and while she stood defiantly the first time, she didn’t move when the Nanny bent her over a second time and smacked her bottom once.

Her lower lip trembled as she stood there and Nanny began spanking her bottom. Soon she was in full tears, and began struggling as the smacks kept coming.

“You. Do. Not. Disobey. Nanny.” the large woman instructed effortlessly, delivering a stinging blow to Anita’s bottom at the end of each word.

Eventually she bolted for the door. Not out of her usual defiant confidence, but purely out of a juvenile attempt to escape the painful punishment.

Nanny easily caught her and dragged her back by an arm, which she raised above Anita’s head before bending to continue to spank the much shorter girl’s bottom. Again and again she continued, the thin layers of cloth at her rear doing little to protect Anita’s precious rump.

When Anita was exhausted, the Nanny let her collapse.

“Now child,” she lectured, as she returned the paddle to the wall, “This was very harsh, but it’s what you get if you ever try to hit Nanny again.”

“Understood?” she questioned, sternly.

Anita simply continued to sob, she couldn’t believe how much of a child she felt like right now. She tried to grit her teeth and mature up several times, but each time a wave of stinging pain crept up from her bottom and she broke down all over again.

“Understood?” the Nanny repeated, this time with a raised threat in her voice.

Anita burst into a new wave of bawling as she stared at the floor, and had to steady herself to whimper out a simply “Yes.” between sniffles.

Nanny didn’t respond, and Anita looked up to see the woman waiting patiently with her hands on her side. She raised an eyebrow and Anita felt like she shrank in fear. Realising what the woman wanted, she swore she couldn’t do it. Not her, Princess Anita, not here. But she couldn’t bear to consider another spanking, and with a trembling voice that did not belong to the most powerful woman in the land, she sobbed out “Y-Yes N-Nanny.”

“Good girl” the Nanny beamed, and then turned to the awaiting bath tub that had been steaming beside her all along.

Chapter 3 – The Princess’ New Frock

Anita felt like an ignored child as she stood sniffling, watching Nanny prepare a bath, which the royal princess tried her best not to believe was for her. Towels, a large scrubbing brush, soap, a small toy duck - Anita felt her body tingle with trepidation. Surely this wasn’t happening to her, she tried to tell herself.

Nanny seemed satisfied and began wiping down her wet hands on her apron. Anita let out a momentary whimper at what she was sure was coming. Even though she was still clothed, she was feeling exposed already, and her numbed hands moved to tighten on her exquisitely tailored clothing in a feeble gesture of holding it on against the inevitable.

“Such a big day we’ve had, haven’t we?” Nanny cooed, approaching the princess. The soothing words weren’t entirely wasted on Anita, who already felt significantly like the child that she was being treated as.

“A long trip. And horses. And all that dust? Hrm?” Nanny inquired, soothingly. Anita could only nod in miserable agreement. A small part of her mind cried out, asking where the intelligent princess with the lashing tongue was, but for the most part she could only nod submissively after being so completely defeated with a degrading spanking. Anita’s first encounter with a superior authority had shaken her partway back to a barely remembered childhood, and for now, in her drugged state, she found that all she could do was submit.

Nanny approached, was humming a nursery rhyme to Anita, while she began pushing away the girl’s trembling hands from the grips on her clothing. The caretaker was demonstrating a starkly kinder and more caring side compared that presented during the spanking, and she went for the girl’s cloths without force. Anita’s resistance crumbled – the Nanny’s loving care was something which had been missing in her life for so long, and right now she was defeated. She could only sniffle and look anywhere but at her captor, while she willingly allowed herself to be undressed.

“Arms up,” Nanny would say, and a moment later her top was coming off over her head, a mess of hair flopping back down into Anita’s face afterward. Nanny easily picked the girl up and laid her across a knee, face down. The actions were all so fast that Anita found herself disoriented, and let out a confused squeak when a hand found the rear waist of her pants. In a moment they were down as well.

Undergarments followed, and Anita was placed on the tiled floor, naked and shivering. She blushed red as she made confused and half-hearted attempts to cover herself, a fruitless endeavour in the long run, her defeated mind had already decided.

Anita stood, cold and sniffling, looking pathetic trying to cover herself and staring at the floor. In an entirely unexpected maneuver, the newly apparent well of love and affection that was Nanny took it as a sign to take the frightened princess into a large hug, soothing the girl and rocking her gently. It took Anita by surprise, and she was embarrassed as her own body sunk into the Nanny’s giant bosom. After several seconds of staring wide eyed at the roof however, Anita found herself surrendering, and in her newfound weakness, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut and took a small amount of comfort in the unwelcome hug.

If she had been conscious enough to witness what she was doing, she would never have allowed herself, but instead, in her moment of pain and fear, she found herself taking respite in the first outlet of love offered to her in many years. Nanny cooed and rocked, even kissing Anita on the top of her head, and while the princess wasn’t happy or smiling for it, her sniffles slowed, and eventually stopped. The Nanny smiled and held Anita out at arm’s length, beaming at her little charge’s now drying face. She still wore a frown, and Nanny kissed her once on the cheek. With that, they turned to the bathtub, and Anita’s eyes grew wide.

It was warm, she discovered, as she dipped one foot in as Nanny held her by her thighs above the water. Slowly, she was sat down, adjusting to the heat. Within moments, she felt herself feeling starkly like a child, sitting in a bath full of warm water, with Nanny preparing to wash her from the edge.

A warm wash cloth passed over her shoulders, and despite it all, the act was almost relaxing except for the fact that Anita had never been naked in front of another person since childhood, and never actually signed up to have a Nanny. She blushed, and sat perfectly still, rigidly erect, as the cloth found its way from her back, to her stomach, and then to her privates.

Anita nearly stopped breathing when Nanny reached between her legs. Her jaw trembled, and the woman making slow and careful work around the famously furious princess’s most intimate area.

“Anita, sweety, Nanny needs to get you clean, and, you need to tell Nanny something – do you ever touch yourself down there?”

The sudden deviation into Anita’s most personal life overwhelmed her with burning embarrassment. She masturbated, a great deal, but never expected to be reporting her endeavours to some adult caretaker, who was asking about it as if she was a child.

The blushing princess didn’t respond, and Nanny continued.

“If you do honey it’s ok, but you should know that there will be no secrets from me. Eventually I will find out anyway.”

A new wave of alarming realisation hit Anita, as the complete and utter captivity of her situation became apparent for entirely new reasons. Nanny would know? Would she really have so little privacy here? Living her life as a child trapped in a nursery?

She blushed, and after a moment of silence, slowly nodded.

“It’s ok sweety,” Nanny cooed, rubbing the girl’s back with her hand before continuing to wash the girl’s crotch.

“We may have to put a stop to that however.“

Anita’s heart sank.

“- or we could see if we can’t make it a reward for good behaviour.” Nanny considered out loud.

A strange elation ran through her, she had been given hope. A moment ago it had looked that masturbation might have been entirely taken from her, and now it just might be possible if she just behaved. Somewhere deep inside her, the idea of being rewarded for good performance appealed to the lost and confused child that existed deep down.

Then, she felt shame, realising with a stabbing embarrassment that she was a grown woman, and now was relying on the scrappiest of reasons to be happy, upon getting permission to occasionally masturbate. Worse yet, she was meant to be the most powerful woman in the world, not relying on the appeasement of her Nanny to allow such things. The humiliation of it burned at her, and much of her sense of self thrashed in an internal rage.

A third feeling, however, ran even deeper. A much stronger, stranger current, which tickled at Anita in an exciting way. It arose only now that the topic was at the fore of her mind, and had been so buried beneath her furious emotions of outrage and shame.

The curious tingle was not enough to make Anita want to stay as she was, captive in a nursery, not even close - but in the slightest sense, she found herself erotically intrigued, the swirling notions of domination currently so evident in her situation was not lost on her.

When she had begun to think about masturbation, she had also begun to think specifically about what thoughts she masturbated to. As might be expected of the young and repressed power hungry princess, Anita harboured deep passions for domination and submission, a fetish of sorts, though she didn’t know it yet, and it had always permeated all of her sexual fantasies.

In the past, she had fantasized and plotted to sneak into whorehouses and depraved shows, where men and women were dominated, humiliated, and a unique taste for embarrassment within society was fed. She had never been brave enough, always telling herself that she had to consider what it might do to her image. More than anything though, she was just too embarrassed, finally finding something that she was afraid and unsure of.

And yet, now she was here, right in the middle of a humiliating domination game. What she had thought she wanted. As the realisation hit her, she was quite confident that she absolutely did not want such things to be so absolute in her life, trapping her in any such situation, or taking away her future upon the throne.

But, she realised with a confused tingle between her legs, here she was being bathed by a woman, the most humiliating of dominations, and for a moment she turned just the slightest bit flush with excitement.

Nanny pushed her onto all fours, and she found herself trying to not pant as her undersides and rear were scrubbed clean. She was fairly confident nothing had been revealed, but remained shocked at herself for this sudden deviation into sexual excitement in her current situation as a captive.

No feelings of the sort had arisen while she was being spanked. At the time, she realised, she had only felt genuine horror and outrage. Even now in retrospect it had the slightest tinge of sexual excitement to it, a realisation which left Anita stunned. She found herself lost in the moment, as her stinging bottom being washed so gave her a certain chill and rush of humiliating excitement, even now.

Anita bit her lip and tried to calm herself, here she was in the middle of her worst nightmare, and was suddenly getting aroused. Heaven only knew how badly she wanted to masturbate, she complained to herself. She realised with a sinking feeling that she could not just order Nanny out like she could have in the past, when others had been in her way. She could only sit miserable in the bathwater, cooling down in the rough denial of it. But then, in a flash, she realised that denial was what she had fantasized about, and she found herself flustered all over again. Going through these cycles, heartbeat quickening and breath growing short, all she could think was that this was the most bewildering morning of her life.

Sexual excitement or not, the giant rough Nanny physically frightened her, and when the enormous woman stood and ordered her out of the tub, she found herself again entirely unaroused and becoming angry.

She stepped out and was wrapped in a giant towel. Her anger made no appearance however, Anita’s confusion had left her rather exhausted about the whole thing, and now she simply complied. In a moment she was standing bundled up, scowling as she was scrubbed dry.

Anita wore only a pout as she was led by a wrist to a nearby basin, where Nanny insisted on brushing the girl’s teeth for her, before making her swallow a strange pill. Anita complied grumpily - if they were trying to poison her then they could have done it long ago she grudgingly conceded.

Nanny then left her alone for a brief moment before returning with a bowl containing a lathery grey paste. Anita yelped when it was gooped directly onto her vagina, and Nanny shushed with a single spank to the girl’s thigh, reaching a giant hand between her legs to embarrassingly pull the retreating girl back.

Anita stood cold and upset as she watched Nanny observe the paste, apparently counting down from some number, before she produced a towel, and wiped it all away. With it, Anita realised in shock, had gone her pubic hair, and she stared dumbfounded at her privates, bare as a newborn babe. She had heard of women who enjoyed such a fashion, she herself had always trimmed, but now she found herself feeling starkly naked as her bare sex was hit with the cool air.

She didn’t even have time to process the startling development. Nanny picked her smaller charge up and rested Anita over her shoulder, again cradling the princess’s royal tush in a firm palm. Anita collapsed unrebelliously into the woman’s shoulder. Unusually tired - probably from the pill she realised with a sulk - she almost looked forward to the embarrassing-sounding “nap” that Nanny promised upon scooping her up. Resting her head on the firm surface of Nanny’s dark dress, Anita simply sighed and felt miserable for herself as they exited the room.

Nanny carried the princess into the main nursery chamber, and from there Anita felt her stomach tighten as they approached her old bedroom. It had been so long, but she had spent a great deal of her childhood there. Another wave of strange nostalgia overran her, and this time in her weakened state her eyes misted over a little at the strength of the feeling.

Upon entering the room however, Anita found that some very certain things were not at all as she had left it. The chests, the drawers, the play rugs, they were all the same. But Anita had moved out of the nursery wing when she had entered her teens, yet now found herself looking at a room suited for a baby or a toddler at best. The main feature that caught her eye was the enlarged white crib, not to mention the row of rubber pants that were strung along the side wall.

“I don’t need a crib,” Anita said, trying to sound as if she was mocking whoever made such a foolish decision, but betraying a hint of desperation and fear in her wavering voice.

Nanny ignored her, and carried the girl directly to a soft padded table, where she lay Anita on her back. Confused and trying to sit up, Anita was rebuked by Nanny’s hand, and was gently pressed back down. Nanny then went to work fetching various items from the adjourning shelves, cupboards, and draws. Anita sighed and stared at the roof with a furrowed brow, feeling all too aware of her naked lower being presented to the empty room.

Nanny returned, and piled up a giant stack of white towels. How odd, Anita though, and returned to staring at the roof in her tiring state.

A realisation hit her, and she sat up with a start.

“Nanny NO” she blurted out without thinking, wild eyed and immediately trying to hop down off the table.

Now it was Nanny’s turn to sigh. Anita was tiring quickly and the more she struggled, the faster the relaxant spread through her system. Nanny easily returned the girl to her back, ignoring her feeble swats and kicks.

“Hush now sweetheart,” she soothed, “This is for your own good. You will need it with the pills you just took, you don’t think Nanny would lie to you do you?”

Anita froze. She knew that she absolutely should not suggest that Nanny might be lying to her, it would probably end very badly for her bottom. Worse yet, she had to grumpily consider that the woman might be right, could the pills she took really cause her to wet herself? She sulked, and after a moment of reduced struggles began to mellow, allowing Nanny to begin stacking diapers underneath her royal rear. Wetting her bed would not be any better than having to wear a diaper, she reasoned grumpily.

In her now calmed state, she realised with a stinging shock that she had just addressed her warden as “Nanny” in the moment of reflexive rebellion. Worse yet, she had felt like an impertinent child, disobeying a grownup. All of this after only a morning in the nursery - she cursed under her breath and tried to steady her calculating mind. But she was getting sleepy, and Nanny was taking care of her, making everything seem so easy.

Talcum powder and ointment was rubbed into her privates and then rear. She blushed, but couldn’t feel much right now. She hoped this wouldn’t become a regular occurrence, in a non-drugged state this could be very embarrassing she thought to herself miserably, aware that right now her apparent care was diminished by the various medicines.

She was hardly even aware when the thick nappy was pulled up between her legs. Several layers of folded cloth above, below and behind her pelvis caused an immense billowing around her crotch. Her legs were forced so wide that she doubted she’d even be able to stand. The soft but thick and solid padding between her thighs held them well apart.

Oddly, against all expectations, she noticed the return of the tingle in her loins. The thick fluffy towels between her legs created a significant pressure on her privates. Once pinned into place, by moving her legs a little she found that the pressure toyed at her unmentionables in shifting places. Her mouth hanging open in her drugged state, she rolled her head back and cast her eyes to the heavens - to think that she might be aroused by wearing a diaper, this entire day was filled with madness.

Nanny returned with some of the clinical looking rubber pants. They made squelching noises as they were worked up Anita’s legs and air pockets were caught and escape. Then they came over the immensely thick diaper, pulling the whole thing even tighter onto the princess, and sealing her privates within an instant oven. Nanny sat the dozing girl up, who was just conscious enough to note that Nanny was tightening the waist of the pants now up, and then seemed to use a key for something at the back. Anita cursed internally; she was being locked in diapers - a fantastic end to her morning.

A yellow babydoll nighty was pulled over head, ending at her hips and fluffing out in all directions. Anita knew she should be embarrassed, it was so juvenile, and she was sure that when her mind was focused again she would be extra furious. For now though, she simply wavered on the spot where she sat, waiting until Nanny picked her up and carried her off toward the crib.

Partly aroused, unable to close her legs, the princess was deposited on the immensely soft surface. In her haze, all she could think about was how nice the comfortable bedding was, with not a single of the usual vicious thoughts on her mind. Nanny gave her a sweet kiss on the forehead, said something which Anita could no longer hear, and with that the princess fell asleep.

Chapter 4 – Princess Pottypants

Anita was confused, where was she? Her disembodied sense of self lingered in nothingness for a moment, until her senses came to life. The Princess realised that she was waking up.
Senses flooded her with data, and she shifted with a groan once the thick padding beneath her rear reminded her of her situation. It was so hot, and now slick with sweat, the whole adjustment proved to be a slippery ordeal. Apparently her royal willpower was not enough to make this misadventure just go away.

She wanted to scream. “Maybe I will” she considered in grumpy petulance.

But the drugs’ hold over her had weakened, and with her clarity returned she found herself able to re-enter her much valued battle-ready mindset. Immediately she made the decision to remain silent, considering that, for the moment, stealth might be her saviour. She was confident that she could recover from this situation, if she just applied herself. She was Princess Anita after all, the hero of the eastern siege. She knew only victory, and it was all that she would expect of herself.

Then the sting of her bladder hit her. With a shock she realised that she needed to go, badly. Yet she was trapped in a crib, locked in diapers.

“So this is why I woke?” Anita thought despairingly. In the past she had used the tactic for war, drinking before bed as a way to wake herself. It worked well then, but now she was facing a horrifying situation because of it.

Looking to her side, Anita saw an overly large baby’s bottle lying in her crib. It was empty, the clear casing allowed her to see that.

“Oh, no,” Anita’s mind riled with incredulity, “She didn’t!”

She snarled as her bladder informed her that she most surely had. The Nanny had fed her an entire bottle after she had passed out.

“Damnit,” she cursed, beginning to perspire.

She sat in a hurry, finding that the pain in her bladder was increasingly rapidly. She would need to go, and soon. In a rage, she kicked the bottle and watched it bounce against the edge of the crib. It caused her to become even more infuriated, and she picked it up and threw it across the room. It sailed through the air for a moment before bouncing and rolling along the floor, a decidedly unstealthy act of defiance.

It did not solve her problem, and she still needed to pee. Well she was not going to lose this way, she decided.

Anita tried to stand. Her muscle control had almost entirely returned, but to her frustration she found that the thick diaper and immensely soft crib caused her feet to overstep and sink, and she repeatedly dropped onto her padded butt despite her best effort.

The sharp pressure in her bladder increased yet again, and Anita found herself growing more desperate. She tried to use her hands on the cylindrical rails that surrounded her in the crib, but they were slippery, and it was no good. She begun cursing as the effort caused a single drop of urine to escape into her pants.

Her newfound confidence was quickly ebbing, and she whined pathetically as her kicks against the edge of the crib proved fruitless. The bed was strongly built, it didn’t even shudder at her attacks. Her legs were her strongest muscle she realised in panic, she had no hope of breaking her way out.

Running out of options, without the luxury of time to do so, the princess took a new approach and began doing her best to pull off the plastic pants. She realised with frustration that she needed to take her weight off of the diaper to do so, and felt even more stupid while lying on her back and thrusting her crotch in the air in repeated bursts, yanking at the pants to no avail.

It was no use. She was beginning to form tears, and resorted to clawing at her diaper. In an instant, before she could even process what was happening, a stream of urine jettisoned into her nethers entirely unintentionally. In her moment of shame she could hear it, the hot liquid making contact with the tightly bound diaper was clearly audible. Almost immediately she was able to halt the flow, but the sound of it still echoed in her ears, turning her every shade of humiliated red. Shifting in shocked shame, her royalness discovered that the dampness was evident inside of her diaper, and she gasped at the disgusting feeling.

Anita found small relief having emptied her bladder by the slightest amount, but it was evident that it wouldn’t be long until she lost the battle again. Sitting up - attempting to sit cross-legged in her giant diaper without looking like an uncoordinated child - she furrowed her brow and pouted her lips. She did her best to re-enter the strategic mindset which she had possessed moments before, she had to find a solution, and was sure it was there - she just had to think hard and seriously enough. More beads of sweat formed on her head, as she worked in absolute desperation.

For a brief moment, the image of her calling for the Nanny flashed across her mind. She growled at herself and shook her head - how easily the woman’s maternal actions had lead to her subconscious assuming that it could depend on her, in this place.

She had to resist that she told herself, nobody could –

Another release jettisoned from her, destroying her line of thought. She whimpered and managed to halt it.

She had to remain the focused princess to find the solution she told herself, gritting her teeth with furious adult determination. But then there was another release, and another, and within moments, Anita’s angry confidence was crumbling. She was peeing freely now into her diapers, like a giant baby.

She surrendered, letting loose. The eruption kept coming and coming, and for some time it seemed to be growing in intensity instead of ebbing. The bottle that she had emptied had been enormous, and she could only gasp and lean back on her palms as she felt the release thankfully relieve her of her pain.
The flow slowed, and, after what seemed like an eternity, finally stalled, and then finished. Anita was empty, and she took quick gasping breaths, having almost stopped breathing during the ordeal.

Underneath her, the diaper was soaked. In despondency, she found herself now truly feeling like a genuine infant, sitting there, in a crib, with a completely soaked diaper. The urine was puddling up under her butt, and she finally began to sob.

She was defeated. The smell of urine hit her nose, and only made the situation worse. The strong persona of the princess faded away, momentarily unable to process the situation. In its place came a sobbing child, now desperate for her dependant caretaker to come make it better.

Tears after tears after tears rolled out, several years worth in fact, until Anita was finally exhausted. She flopped onto her back, and found herself staring at a mobile hanging in the air above the head of her crib. In her rush to deal with her bladder, she was yet to take in much her surrounding, and now found herself experiencing an odd, mindless, comfort in the effortless task of investigating the juvenile decoration above her. She counted the dangling objects, there were four. A horse in mid gallop, with a long trailing tail, a sun and crescent moon on opposite sides, they would eternally mirror each other, and a duck, which dangled, spinning on the spot, somehow having gained momentum during the whole thrashing ordeal.

Anita stared stupidly at the four objects for quite some time, taking an effortless pleasure from the whole thing. It saved her from thinking, for the first time in her life.

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, but after some time she found herself heaving her chest in empty silence, apparently having cried herself completely out. The diaper was still hot and soaked, but it was noticeably absorbent in dealing with the excessive amounts of Anita’s own urine, much suited to just such a task with its many layers of purposefully placed towels. After the ordeal of the event, Anita found herself simply too exhausted to care about anything else, and, with an empty mind, she closed her eyes, and effortlessly fell back to sleep.

Chapter 5 – Little girls should be seen and not heard

Anita woke in her crib for the second time in the same day, finding herself feeling oddly relaxed with a now lucid awareness, free of the drugs entirely. She didn’t know where sleep ended and waking began, she simply found herself conscious in the soft and cozy confines of the protective crib, feeling far too tranquil considering. The sopping wet diaper between her legs was still clearly evident, humiliating and awkward and many other terrible things all at the same time, yet now it felt almost familiar, faintly intimate after having spent the past several hours sleeping together, and she felt momentarily at peace with her juvenile predicament. Her eyes darted to the long high windows near the top of the nursery walls, and she judged that it was mid afternoon. No wonder she felt so well rested, the royal princess realised, she had been in the crib since morning, and her blackout after her exhausted stupor earlier had sent her into an immensely deep sleep.

A small thud resounded from across the room, and Anita realised that she had woken to an identical noise just a moment prior. Turning her head while lying in her crib, Anita discovered that she was not alone, and found herself looking upon the Nanny who was stuffing linen into a tall wooden cupboard near the entrance. Anita felt her stomach tighten and sicken upon the embarrassing realisation that the woman had been in the room while she was sleeping, that she was lying in the crib after having soaked her pants, and that her complete and utter babyish captivity was not going to go away simply by virtue of a good sleep. She was still a prisoner in the nursery, and with the realisation began feeling progressively less comfortable lying where she was.

She tried to sit, which proved to be a mistake, as her bottom slipped along the soaked towelling beneath, causing several large squelching noises to emanate loudly through the air. It gained the Nanny’s attention, who turned to check on the princess with raised eyebrows. She immediately began a march towards the crib, and Anita recoiled, feeling her posterior slide once again as she immediately laid back down in, hiding in the bed. Anita realised with immediate embarrassment that she had just tried to make a futile attempt to disappear into her blankets, how childishly pathetic she spat internally.

As the Nanny approached, the Princes squirmed on her ballooned backside, unsure of what she could possibly do to help her situation. She went completely still when the Nanny appeared looming over the crib, biting her lower lip and making the reflexive decision to look anywhere except at the woman’s face, a choice which resulted in her finding herself staring at the giantess’ navy dress right where her intimates surely lay. The girl burned as she knew that the Nanny was standing overhead, checking in on the child who had stirred from the nap.

“Did you have a good sleep, Anita?” the woman asked inquisitively, with very little emotion, as if they had been through this a million times. Her hands worked an entirely separate task as they began to pull the tangled bedding away from the girl.

Anita nodded weakly in automatic response, before immediately hating herself for it. She didn’t mean to answer the woman, it felt strikingly out of character for her to do so. She was the proud and strong princess she told herself, who would normally offer no end in resistance. However in her moment of shame and helplessness, she had, for the briefest moment, felt genuinely infantile, and her caregiver was there to fix it, asking her a soothing question, and so she had meekly answered. She wasn’t sure who to hate now that it was her own action that had humiliated her so, that it was herself who had in fact revealed the embarrassing weakness and nobody else.

“That’s good sweety, you seemed quite upset earlier, didn’t we?” the Nanny cooed.

Anita’s eyes narrowed, and she seethed as she moved her eyes further down the woman’s legs, staring mindlessly into the sea of blue dress that floated at the edge of the crib. Her gaze was furious, but unfocused, and she instead was trying to will back her adult mental clarity.

She was immediately interrupted, and her attention was suddenly snapped elsewhere. She found herself turning pink as Nanny’s large hand came to rest atop the crotch of her bulky rubber underwear, the force of it caused her body to shiver with unexpected delight, as she discovered once again that the pressures moving over her embarrassed sex would cause her to feel the briefest spike of acute pleasure, bizarre as it was. It was gone just as quickly as it had begun however, leaving Anita bewildered, and sinking back into raw embarrassment as she felt her wet pants, soaked by her own urine, shifting back and forth over her privates as the woman’s hand found its perch.

“Oh, did you wet yourself sweety?” the Nanny inquired, no element of surprise in her voice, as if it were entirely normal for a girl of Anita’s age to have wet her pants. The insinuation burned the princess, that she was anything like some toddling child. She was the one who was meant to be torturing other high-society rich girls, she spat to herself internally. Anita could only pout in silent rebellion, intending not to answer, and quite sure that the strong scent of her urine was evident to the both of them anyway. Perhaps it was a rhetorical question, she mused grumpily, in which case she was denied defiance from not answering anyway.

The Nanny didn’t even seem to notice the girl’s lack of response, and begun methodologically inserting her first two fingers into the leg bands of the princess’ rubber pants. Anita froze, her breathing stopping entirely, before resuming as slow and quiet breaths. She was shocked at the intrusiveness of it all - here she was meant to be the most powerful young lady in the world, returning to secure her place upon the throne, and instead she was having her diaper checked. The Nanny struck gold, discovering the immensely sopping wet contents, and removed her fingers to then wipe them on her apron. Anita witnessed the action within the cone of her deathly stare at the woman’s legs. That the woman was wiping away Anita’s own wet urine so casually, as if she was just taking care of a small child, caused Anita to fume further. She furiously tossed her head to stare in the opposite direction in a rage. Her intent gaze locked upon the bars of the crib and the far wall beyond that, but internally she focused on nothing.

The Nanny lowered the railing on her side of the crib, but Anita did not move or look back to see what was occurring. She was surprised to find the bed suddenly sinking a little, and realised that the Nanny had sat at the edge of the mattress. She sickened as her personal comfort zone was further invaded by the unknown and overwhelmingly-maternal woman.

“Oh sweety,” the Nanny cooed - the raw humiliation sending another acute burst of equal parts humiliation and excitement though Anita’s crotch, the effect augmented as her diaper’s pressure points shifted with the moving mattress.

Anita only gasped from the moment of pleasure, and did not answer. The woman stroked the side of the silent beauty’s head for a moment, before she placed a hand upon Anita’s stomach and began to rub in circular motions. It proved to be surprisingly effective in making Anita yearn for relaxation and love in a way that caught her completely by surprise. Her stomach nauseated as she found her body begging, craving the soft touch, and longing to accept the maternal love. She would not let it, but instead of making her feel stronger, she discovered that it only made her feel more like a petulant child, lying there, frowning, with a loving caretaker working to comfort her. She felt guilty, bad for being so difficult, and wanted to scream at herself to stop thinking these childish thoughts, to stop feeling as if she was the one misbehaving. She was the one who was meant to be in control at all times damnit, and she couldn’t even handle a nanny?

It was the madness of the situation that was doing this to her she decided, the deepest corner of her mind still her own. She was a grown princess, she didn’t need or crave this maternal love she told herself. She had no real desire to be oppressed.

While she lay under the Nanny’s loving hand still rubbing in circles, Anita made the snap decision between moments of pleasure that she desperately needed to do something rebellious. She tried to squirm out from under the woman’s hands, but instead found herself simply sliding helplessly back and forth on the spot on her large, rubbery, rear, almost as if she was enjoying the tickling attention. The image only caused Anita to frown several magnitudes harder.

“Sweety it’s ok,” the large Nanny reassured, stopping her hand on the princess’s frock-covered stomach. “No need to get grumpy, it was just an accident, accidents happen.”

Anita fumed, and tried to tell herself that this would not stand, that she was powerful, but the day’s events had already stripped her of that, and she started to fret at the apparent looming certainty that she might well be the pathetic baby of the palace nursery, destined to a life of soaked diapers and naps in cribs.

“It was just an accident,” the woman cooed, “but Nanny will change you!” she promised, with enthusiasm which was perhaps meant to make Anita feel better, but instead made every part of her prideful mind writhe. Her previous experience with a diaper change was somewhat of a blur still after her drugged experiences. Now fully conscious, she had no inclination to have the woman see any further amount of her naked, especially in her sopping wet diaper.

“No,” Anita whispered furiously, unable to find her voice while momentarily feeling so small. The Nanny was standing, and began to hook one arm under the princess’s back, preparing to lift the girl.

“No. No. NO!” Anita commanded with escalating desperation, beginning to thrash spasmodically as another hand reached under her padded bottom. She let out a desperate whimper and tried to roll away, but found herself suddenly in the air having left the mattress and quickly approaching the woman’s bosom. Anita ceased her struggles when facing the prospect of falling, and allowed herself to be cradled against the woman’s enormous chest, wide-eyed and cheeks burning profusely with rage and shame.

It was only several steps to the changing table, and the trip was a blur for Anita as she bounced in the much larger woman’s arms. Moments later, she was placed on her back atop the waiting surface, her legs spread wide by the embarrassment layered so thickly between her legs, she found herself facing Nanny with her crotch presented such that the terrible deed could be done.

The woman began piling more folded towels upon the table, ferrying them from a nearby shelf. Anita clenched her teeth and curled her nose into her habitual snarl; there was no way that she was going back into that underwear she told herself with furious confidence.

“You may take them off,” she commanded, finally finding her royal voice for the first time since she had been thrown into the hellhole that was the nursery, “but you are not to replace them. Do you hear me?”

The Nanny didn’t even bat an eyelash in response to the princess’ demands, and simply continued to pile towels and a fresh pair of rubber pants atop the ever growing stack of changing supplies. She glanced at the glaring princess as she fetched the final item of baby powder, looking coldly unamused by the girl’s antics as she met her eyes.

Anita would have faltered normally, the look was more dismissive than she could have handled during her more recent conditions, but she had momentarily found her enormous pride, and intended to stare down the nanny. The princess watched with piercing fury as her warden entirely ignored her, and moved to the other side of the room where she fetched something from atop a dresser, before returning with the mystery item. Anita lay on her back with her legs wide and knees in the air, unable to see the Nanny’s hands over her soaked crotch which was so humiliatingly piled halfway up her thighs.

“No more nappies.” she demanded, holding her glare.

“Anita.” the woman rebuked sternly. “This,” she stated, holding up a very large pacifier, “is to stay in your mouth at all times. If you take it out of your mouth you will be punished. If you talk back when I’ve ordered you to be silent, you will find that I am well equipped to teach proper obedience. Do you understand, young lady?”

Anita seethed, and didn’t answer, but the woman bore down on her with the sucker. She tightened her teeth as it was held up to her face, but the Nanny rebuked again with a stern proclamation of “Anita!” and slapping the girl on the thigh, to which she scrunched her face in further anger, but opened her mouth in compliance.

The teat was huge, completely filling Anita’s mouth and flattening her tongue. Entirely ignoring Nanny’s threat, she tried to speak around the giant bulb out of pure surprise. She discovered that she could only make garbled noises, and caused herself to drool slightly, incredulous at how stupid it made to feel. She moved to tear the gag out, only to be interrupted when Nanny rolled her onto her side, working to unlock the rubber pants from behind.

With a squelch she was dropped back onto her backside. Nanny reached her two enormous hands under the hemline of Anita’s short frock, and proceeded to work down the girl’s rubber pants from the waistband.

Still distracted by the dummy, Anita braced her weight on one elbow to support her partial sitting position, and yanked the pacifier out of her mouth with the other.

“No diapers. You hear me? This is the last one, once it’s off –“

“Anita!” the Nanny bellowed, this time displaying genuine anger which even caused a lapse in the spoiled princess’s demeanour. “What did I say about not taking your dummy out of your mouth?”

Anita ignored her, summoning her courage for another wave of rebellion. “No more diapers,” she fumed, “I won’t. You are not putting me back into any more!”

“Is that so?” the Nanny questioned incredulously, her words becoming increasingly cold as Anita tantrumed.

“Yes.” Anita responded flatly, wielding her royal confidence as if she could shape reality just by her very instruction.

The Nanny huffed and placed her hands on her hips for a moment, staring down at her charge with the full force of icy-cold eyes. A moment later, she reached over and began to yank up the princess’s pants, back over the slight progress that had been made in getting them down. The heavily yellowed white towels disappeared behind thick rubber, and before Anita could even process what was going on, she ound herself sitting and turned slightly while Nanny was working at relocking the plastic pants.

“What are you - ?” she begun weakly, not sure that she wished to know.

“You’ve just earned yourself a delayed diaper change missy,” the Nanny responded coldly, the finality of her choice sending a chill down Anita’s spine.

“No, you can’t!” Anita begged, in a sudden transformation into a whiny child.

“Watch me, and I suggest you learn to do as your told if you don’t want it worse. Put that dummy back into your mouth *right* now, understand me young lady?”

Anita was dumbfounded. She was being locked back into her horrible wet diapers, and worse yet, understood that she had just brought it upon herself with her own bad behaviour.

“Noo,” she moaned with distaste, “There’s no way I can take any more. Please, I’ll be good. Just let me have a dry nappy please.”

The Nanny simply shook her head and raised an eyebrow, pointing to the sucker.

“That better be in your mouth quick smart young lady, or I may just decide that you should remain in these until tomorrow.”

Anita’s eyes went wide at the possibility.

“Have you ever seen a baby with diaper rash?” the Nanny asked, “I assure you, it’s not the making for a happy child.”

Anita’s sat for a moment in dumb silence, after which she shoved the pacifier fearfully into her mouth.

“Good girl,” the nanny cooed with a stern but dramatically more caring tone.

The princess sat bewildered, unsure how this could possibly be happening to her. She was entirely unprepared when the Nanny’s hands lifted her from under her shoulders, carrying her well off the table. She was placed standing on her feet next to the giant woman, finding that staying upright independently was impossible in the balloon like underwear, and was only able to do so due to a stern grip Nanny kept on her upper arm.

Dressed in only her short frilled frock and the thick diaper, she began waddling in fear as the Nanny walked her out of the room, leading the loudly squelching girl into the main play area. The walk was laborious and Anita felt more foolish than she had ever felt waddling like a toddler the entire way, but soon she found herself released and deposited amongst a pile of toys, feeling every inch of rebelliousness she had possessed moments earlier being sapped out of her. She felt her wet diapers readjust, and sat miserably while the intent was made clear.

“Now,” the Nanny started, “normally we would begin lessons after your nap, however I think today, that we can come up with a special different lesson which will be easier and a little more appropriate.”

Anita began to feel anxious, she had to get out of this soaked diaper, she was willing to submit.

“W-What kind of lesson?” she asked fearfully.

“A spelling lesson,” the Nanny responded matter-of-factly. She then gestured to the many coloured blocks scattered across the floor, several of which were clumped around Anita’s awkwardly splayed legs.

“I will be back in forty-five minutes,” she instructed, “you are to spell out ‘Sorry Nanny’ with the blocks for me before I return, or else you will not have your diaper changed before bedtime tonight.’

With that, she turned and left, leaving Anita to watch the powerful woman from behind as she strode out of the room. The gaping princess spent a moment processing the situation, staring stupidly at her surroundings. After several seconds the quiet stupor ended, and Anita came awake by bursting into action, crawling like a furiously excited toddler in a desperate hunt, as she searched for the letters which were needed for her to get out of her soaking wet diapers.

Chapter 6 – Learned Obedience

Bells rang throughout the capital. What had begun as an occasional chime here and there had soon developed into a cavalcade of sounds. The loud tolls sang a song, in a sense, declaring a mysterious joy and jubilation which had gripped the city, and not even the gloomiest individual could fail to feel the excitement which permeated the air.

Inside the palace nursery, the princess sat miserably upon her Nanny’s knee, pulled tightly to the giantess’s chest as the enormous woman bottle fed her. She listened longingly to the sounds from the outside, inundated with unfamiliar emotions as she felt her hope for similar liberty ebb away, her denied access to the unknown events cementing her place as prisoner within her own mind. The elated chimes told a muted story of a world just beyond the wall, where promises such as freedom and joy were still available to anybody who was on the other side, where happiness was plentiful and for the taking by every man and woman. It had only been the better half of a day, and she already felt defeated, uncomfortably sure that such things were now beyond her.

Freedom, it now seemed impossible to grasp, she sat a prisoner, thick diapers between her legs and pressing down on her sex, in a way which mildly aroused her almost half as much as it shamed. How many had she sent to languish in prisons, she wondered in a moment of unsettling insight. She instantly sneered at the thought, quickly turning her mind to less deprecating introspections.

The Nanny shushed her again, using her strong arms to pull the princess closer. She buried the girl in the mountain of silk that was her breasts and torso, rubbing her back and tilting the bottle upwards to increase the flow. The soothing hushes only enraged the indignant princess further, and Anita began towards another tantrum. Deciding that she had had enough of the foul tasting drink, she tightened her nose and swung her head away, freeing her mouth from the enormous teat, and began glaring stubbornly at the door which lead out of the room.

“Anita,” the Nanny warned, letting her stern caution hang in the air in the silence that followed. Anita found herself quickly turning coward, guilt of misbehaviour overwhelming her. She was astonished and embarrassed to find herself already so afraid of this woman, so reverent.

Anita didn’t know what she might say which would be of help in her situation. She had no manipulation left in her, feeling only peculiar defeat in her thick diapers and billowed short white dress. She began to suspect that the drink was drugged, and knew that if her mind was less mellowed that she would be significantly more angry about it. She made an effort to avoid the drink, and instead used her weakening body to ask an innocent question, which had been tearing at her mind.

“What are the bells for?” she queried, and, as she anticipated, made herself feel weak and foolish, as if a child, asking a grown up for answers about the big world that confused her so. But she needed to know, not knowing made her feel childish in its own right.

The Nanny didn’t respond, and Anita cringed as she understood what she would need to do, both to receive an answer, and to save herself from punishment now that she had opened her mouth and not spoken correctly.

“What are the bells for, Nanny?” she asked, correcting herself, and trying to hide the spite from her voice as she addressed her captor using the proper title.

“If you finish your milkies, maybe I’ll tell you,” the Nanny cooed happily. Her caring tone suggested that she only had Anita’s best interests at heart, and would use the girl’s own curiosities to guide her toward a better behaviour. The dismissive and juvenile treatment only caused another wave of indignation to rush through Anita’s body. Yet, as the electric pulse ran through her abdomen and reached her crotch, she again felt a brief spark of sexual excitement, peaking and disappearing all too soon, much to her bewilderment.

Amid the moment of twinkling elation, Anita’s mouth had drooped open, as if she was some dim-witted simpleton, and in no time at all the bottle had found its way back between her lips. She didn’t resist, and instead suckled thoughtfully, considering Nanny’s promise of an answer to her question. The repugnant warm milk began to fill her mouth once more, and she prayed that none of the tittering girls from her social circle would ever hear of this.

The bottle drained slowly, there seemed to be no end to it, and Anita wondered in her dulling mind whether the bells might have been about her. The ringing was growing sparser, signalling an end to the jubilant festivities. Could the people have been celebrating her capture? It had been many hours, but it was still the same day. That she might be the item of attention throughout the city both tickled and embarrassed her. She was giddy with imagined fame at one moment, and then sick with indignant rage the next.

The drink finally emptied, and the Nanny administered a few more of her knee bounces to help the process along. Anita glowered at the treatment, but knew with defeat that she couldn’t do anything about it, and decided that the sooner it was over with the better. She watched as the final drops drained down the sides of the transparent case, while Nanny lifted the bottle high for one last deluge of the foul stuff.

Much to her surprise, Anita realised that she had somehow managed to finish the entire bottle. When she had started it had seemed enormous, yet she had somehow become lost in the rhythmic sucking while nestled within the maternal caress of the Nanny. The Nanny beamed, and the princess felt woozy as the teat was pulled from her mouth with a pop. Her mouth free, Anita licked at her lips to remove the remaining drops of the foul liquid, trying to rid herself of it sooner rather than later. It proved to be a pointless endeavour as the Nanny produced a wet cloth and wiped Anita’s face anyway, easily cleaning the comparatively small princess’s mouth while Anita scrunched her eyes and tried to pull away.

When the Nanny was done, she smiled warmly at the girl and bounced her again, rubbing her back in the process. “Did you enjoy your bottle sweety?” she cooed.

Anita was at a crossroads. She wanted to pout and say no, to scream and tell this woman how many horrible deaths she should suffer. But the princess desperately sought an answer to her question regarding the bells, driven mad with curiosity after the most unusual tolling throughout the city. Finally she gave in, nodding slowly in response to the Nanny’s juvenile queries. When she realised that she would need to audibly answer, she whimpered out a shameful “Yes... Nanny.”

The large woman beamed as she gazed at the obedient charge on her lap, bouncing the girl with small rises and falls of her supporting knee. Noticing a few loose strands of hair matted upon the princess’s cheek, the Nanny freed one hand to brush them back behind Anita’s ear, bracing the girl from behind with the other. Anita blushed at the action, remembering that her hair had been put into pigtails during the long afternoon play-time. It kept the long mess out of her eyes when she crawled, amongst other things, which was all that she could manage while so thickly diapered. When Anita had seen the results in the mirror for the first time, she had felt as if the world had dropped out from under her, her new juvenile hairstyle was oddly almost as embarrassing as the rest of her experiences. Yet, at the same time, a warm and unfamiliar glow had formed in her middle, long frustrated cravings for love and attention were finally being fulfilled in the most unexpected of ways. The joy of receiving such genuine care was an entirely foreign experience for the princess, but she refused to indulge that line of considerations, it was a humiliating venture.

As if coming from a daze, she found herself glowing, realising that she had been trapped in a trance once again as large hands had worked at fixing her hair, making her pretty. Just as she had been thinking about how she wouldn’t succumb, she had let herself become lost in the maternal love offered by the woman. The realisation came in embarrassing and fearful bewilderment. She tried to tell herself it was the work of the sedatives, or that she was just too tired, that she could not blame herself. The princess weakly pulled herself away from the strange comfort, and repeated her question.

“The bells, Nanny? What were they?”

“Ah!” the Nanny responded enthusiastically, apparently appreciating her childlike curiosity. “Those were the bells to mark the end of the trial. The old king has been found guilty of many things no doubt, and would have received his life sentence of imprisonment. He’s to be sent to the Lonely Isle. A fitting punishment for the monster who commissioned such a place.”

Anita’s stomach sank. Her right to the throne was slipping away frighteningly fast with each terrible calamity, and she now found herself approaching an impossible realisation that she would never sit on the throne. Without that, she didn’t know what she was, what she had to live for - for once in her life, things seemed beyond her grasp. The long day that she had spent in her nursery already felt like several, as if her old life was now long behind. Worse yet, the prison that the old king was being sent to had also been one of Anita’s own projects, one of the very few times that she had worked on a task at the same time as him. She felt almost fortunate to have been able to remain in the capital, despite her current state, she had no desire to see the man who held the title of her biological father. While working on the prison, she had wanted desperately to impress the man, and had summoned her most sadistic inner self in an effort to appear the cold-hearted worthy heir. But she hadn’t even received a nod of acknowledgement for her efforts, not even a word, and she saddened at the memory.

Anita was abruptly drawn from her reminiscences as the Nanny pulled her in for an enormous hug. “Oh sweety,” she said softly, “You looked so sad. Just know that you will never go to a place like that, not while you’re mine. I will always look after you, nothing bad will happen, and nobody will hurt you, just so long as you behave. If you learn to behave you can be happy, if you learn to be good you will have nothing to fear.”

Anita was stunned. She wasn’t sure whether to feel indignant or relieved.

The Nanny continued to hug the startled drowsing girl for a long time, before softly asking “can you behave for me, sweety? Can you promise to be good?”

The suggestion sent a tremble through Anita’s body. She was exhausted, and had never in living memory behaved for anybody, and certainly was not normally of a predisposition to do so. But now, as she was, frightened, confused, diapered, sleepy, being cared for and promised safety, disoriented by the moment of unfamiliar affection, Anita found that she was not herself. She was a stupefied and frightened baby child, somebody who craved to be loved. She was confused, and out of her element. She found the moment dragged, and was too numb to think of a response suitable to her adult mind. Unable to think of anything else, she simply nodded, dumbly agreeing, while barely being able to understand that she was doing so.

The Nanny kissed her silently on the forehead and held her tight for what seemed like the longest time. The realisation of what she had agreed to slowly crept across Anita’s mind. That she, the proud and powerful Princess, could be reduced to so little, simply by confusion, was terribly wrong. She furrowed her brow and shook her head at the thought. The sedatives were confusing her, she tried to tell herself, though she tried to avoid a far more embarrassing possibility, that the childlike treatment and unexpected but much craved love were truly converting her, regressing her, that some lonely and scared little girl who she truly was on the inside was finally showing her face, the veil having being pealed away. It was infuriating, she was meant to be queen, not an obedient diapered prisoner in a nursery. She halted her agreeable motions, but the damage had been done, it was too late. The Nanny was silently rocking her in a loving hug which she could not easily ignore, the warmth and attention saturated the affection-starved girl.

Finally the rocking stopped, and the large caretaker held the princess out at a short length. “Wonderful,” she beamed, and kissed the startled girl on the cheek. Anita tried to convince herself that she hadn’t meant to agree to be good, that the moment of infantile submission had just been a product of confusion. She tried to think of something adult to say which would remind them both that she was not really a child, because now she was doubting herself.

Her thoughts were interrupted as large hands found their way beneath her underarms, and a moment later she was in the air. She was gently placed on weak feet, where she wobbled, legs splayed far too wide to stand up independently, and could only remain upright due to the strong grip on her upper arm by the always strong and towering Nanny.

The Nanny began walking the waddling girl in the direction a nearby highchair, and Anita realised with shock that she was wetting herself, her diaper growing damper by the moment with the unexpected movement. She gaped stupidly as she comprehended that she hadn’t even noticed her incontinence until the liquid had pooled significantly beneath her nethers, and was still filling up now. She was unable to stop herself, and all intent of mature rebellion was lost to the embarrassing warm wetness. She begun to sniffle, and found herself barely able to find the only words which could come to her mouth right now.

“Nanny - I need a diaper change...”

Sunday, 3 March 2019

Patreon Preview - The Diaper Fairy February

A little preview of what’s happening over at Patreon.

If you’re not signed up yet, you can find it here - www.patreon.com/ausdpr

Tuesday, 31 July 2018

Month 1 Patreon Conclusion

Slightly spoilery. But month 1 of Patreon has wrapped up, and I think it went well. :)

If you’re not signed up yet, you can find it here - https://www.patreon.com/ausdpr

Wednesday, 25 July 2018

Attempting Something New - Diminishing Hope Pastie

Welp, I tried to do my first ever Pastie, up for my patreon supporters now. It’s opened up an interesting new possible direction over traditional caption pics. It gave some strong ideas for improvement as well.

Wednesday, 18 July 2018

Patreon Story Launched - Bryce's Big Act in The Diaper Dimension

On top of my previous post, I’d also just like to announce that I’ve launched my new main storyline for the Patreon - Bryce’s Big Act in the Diaper Dimension, an illustrated story which I think is going to be a lot of fun. :D

If you'd like to support illustrated diaper dimension stories for a few dollars a month, head on over to http://patreon.com/ausdpr