Nappied and Nannied Bundle

by McCoy, Amanda

  Miss Patricia, a woman who looked to be in her early fifties and was dripping in precious stones, had enthusiastically volunteered to feed me my dinner. She was given a bottle by Nanny Susan and had me crawl, naked and diapered to where she sat on the couch.

  She had me lay in her lap so it mimicked breastfeeding and lay her forearm on my chest so when she held the bottle a noticeable distance from my mouth, I had to stretch my neck to reach it.

  It wasn’t until my mouth met the bottle that I realized it wasn’t the position that was meant to infantilize but the inescapably mortifying suckling noises I had to make in order to obey.

  The benefactors mocked and jeered - speaking amongst themselves as if I couldn’t hear them or didn’t understand them. When I heard one of them mention something about how much milk it was and my diaper, I noticed how full my bladder was beginning to feel.

  One of my earlier punishments had taught me that I had to request and receive permission to soil my diaper, though one of the vague rules about the cocktail party was that I couldn’t speak unless spoken to, so when I felt the growing urge, I considered trying.

  I pulled away from the bottle, which Miss Patricia held in my mouth, preventing me from speaking so long that it became overwhelmingly obvious that I needed to pee. Bets were made and Miss Patricia’s less-than-discreet pressing on my tummy, disguised as tummy rub, and the fact that I wasn’t even halfway finished drinking the bottle I had to finish led me to wet myself.

  Mrs. Paezel was the first to notice and to say something, though the inadvertent moan that came out as I relieved myself did not make it difficult.

  Nanny Susan opened the floor to punishment suggestions and the now lubricated benefactors were so full of suggestions, they all began shouting over each other. I lay on Miss Patricia’s lap, waiting for my sentence, which prompted Mrs. Paezel’s idea to put me in timeout while they decided what to do with me.

  And here we are.

  I was still laying on Miss Patricia’s lap, knowing better than to assume instruction, while Nanny Susan prepared the forum on my first punishment.

  My newly wet diaper felt warm and heavy. I could see people pointing and laughing as others debated what my first punishment should be. The warm wetness that spread throughout the diaper only reminded me of how shamefully aroused I was.

  “Come on, Polly,” Mrs. Paezel said, lifting me by the armpits like an infant. “The adults need to talk and you’ve been a bad girl.”

  She carried me over to the corner, lowering me to the ground so that I was sitting in my wet diaper. It made a soggy squishing sound that made me wince.

  The marble floors were frigid, momentarily distracting me and making my nipples even harder as a shiver ran down my spine. Mrs. Paezel produced a nickel and held it inches from my face.

  “You are going to hold this to the wall with your nose until I tell you otherwise,” she said, holding it to the wall and pushing it me toward it by the scruff of my neck. I pressed my nose to the wall, unable to adjust the awkwardness of my position on all fours, the soggy diaper sliding down slowly but surely as my pee weighed it down.

  When Mrs. Paezel was sure the nickel wasn’t going to fall, she walked back over to the group who had been continuing their discussion on how to discipline me.

  My diaper continued to slide until I was sure my butt was showing. I could only imagine what I must have looked like. Luckily, I was so consumed by the nickel and my sagging diaper that I was spared from eavesdropping on the conversation happening behind me.

  By the time I heard footsteps approaching, the waist of my diaper had slid down to my thighs, exposing the globes of my backside in full. I tried to ignore the jokes and chuckles I half-heard at my expense as everyone’s attention returned to me.

  Nanny Susan pulled my diaper back up, lifted and turned me around so that I was on my hands and knees facing the group. The nickel jingled onto the marble behind me and I felt my cheeks flush. I kept my eyes lowered and waited.

  “Dr. Moriarty, Mr. Moriarty, if you would be so kind as to lead our naughty girl to the examination room, I’m sure we would all be obliged,” she said wickedly as I saw a gleam in her eye. “Thank you all for your wise decision to perform a routine health exam before we proceed to Polly’s punishment. The last thing I would want is for someone to get sick or for Polly to fall ill.”

  “Come along, Polly,” Mrs. Paezel said, reaching down to carry me before remembering my diaper was dirty. “Oh, Susan, she’s dripping wet.”

  “Throw her diaper out, Hennie,” Nanny Susan said nonchalantly. “I’m sure Dr. Moriarty was planning on giving her a bit of a clean before her exam either way.”

  “Susan, darling,” an older woman purred. She must have been in her late fifties, early sixties but she had the voice, demeanor and agility of a woman much younger. She was petite and reed-thin in a way that makes me think her appearance was due to far more than just aging gracefully. “Don’t fret, we can roll everything out here so that everyone is comfortable for the show. Just give the staff a couple minutes while I go change.”

  Susan looked a little cowed. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Moriarty,” she said. “I didn’t even think about you having to change.”

  “Nonsense,” the woman said in an antiquated transatlantic accent, the applique on her dress shimmering as she brushed off Nanny Susan’s concern. “I’m lucky if I change any less than three times a day - before I got married, it was upwards of five, isn’t that right, Fred?”

  “No one knows better than I do,” the man next to Dr. Moriarty said gruffly.

  “And besides,” the doctor said, tucking a fading blond strand of hair that had fallen from her elaborate French twist behind her ear. She reminded me of some old silent film star in both voice and mannerisms, “I could hardly imagine a better reason than a little girl and her health. Especially one who has been quite naughty already. The night is still young!”

  Nanny Susan laughed. The sound of her laughter was startlingly sincere. Either Nanny Susan really did respect this group or I was in for a lot more than I anticipated. The moment the thought occurred to me, I realized how easily it could be both.

  As reluctant I was to admit it, the only emotion stronger than my apprehension was the reluctant thrill and anticipation of what was to come. The idea of being ‘examined’ and touched by Dr. Moriarty in front of the high society audience for their entertainment was shamefully arousing.

  I thought I was entirely at the mercy of Mrs. Paezel before Nanny Susan was in the picture and, based on what I had seen, there was very little, if anything, that Nanny Susan would not do for the patrons in attendance.

  If there was one thing I knew, all bets were off.

  ◆◆◆

  M rs. Paezel took my hand, ordering me to stand, and walked me over to the nearest bathroom.

  Before I could even feel surprised that she would allow me the privacy of having my diaper removed out of sight, she rolled out some toilet paper, using it to remove my diaper and clumsily dispose of the soggy heap without ruining anything.

  “What did I tell you, Polly?” she said resignedly. “You’re going to have to start behaving soon or I will give your parents a bad report recommending that you have a babysitter for the next month. And I will be out of town so you’ll have Nanny Susan to look forward to for a lot longer than tomorrow.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said, my eyes widening at the prospect of being in Nanny Susan’s care for so long without Mrs. Paezel.

  She used another couple sheets of toilet paper to roughly wipe my mess off me.

  “Back on the ground,” she said, pointing to the floor. “You’ll crawl back so that the staff has time to set up for your exam and Dr. Moriarty has the time she needs to prepare. Keep in mind how much you’re putting her out - I can assure you Nanny Susan will have something to say if you become a burden. Is that clear, Polly?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I repeated softly as I lowered myself to my hands and knees. My thighs and the skin
between my legs were still damp with my accident and the air conditioning on top of the cold tile made me shiver. Goosebumps stood up on my skin as I started crawling back to the party, naked as the day I was born.

  I was almost relieved that Mrs. Paezel had done such a cursory job of cleaning me up. I would rather the guest think it was from my diaper than know, without doubt, how unforgivably aroused I felt. I lowered my face to hide my embarrassment as I felt my cheeks flush at the thought.

  When I crawled back into the room with Mrs. Paezel close behind me, the boisterous conversations amongst the group dropped to a low hum. I keep my eyes on the floor in front of me, feeling their eyes on me.

  The sound of metal clanking and wheels rolling down the hall gave me a brief respite from everyone’s attention.

  I glanced over my shoulder and saw several men rolling stainless steel and blindingly white medical equipment into the room. One of the men looked at me and I felt my stomach roll. It was one thing to be naked on my hands and knees in front of the party guests but what was to stop him from telling his college friends about what happened at the party he worked. His fleeting look brought a wave of acute self-awareness that I was helpless to make any accommodations for.

  By the time the sounds of metal on metal stopped, everyone was caught up in conversation again. The conversations were quieter than before - disjointed and distracted - but it was not until Dr. Moriarty returned and the doors to the large room closed behind her that I turned to see what had been set up.

  There was a large stainless steel crib with one side lowered to the floor so that nothing impeded visibility to whomever - or whatever - was in the crib. To the right of the crib was an IV-stand with a clipboard hanging from it and to the left was a stainless steel unit drawer unit.

  The chill coming off the equipment and the aseptic smell reminded me of a gynecologist office. It was all I could do not to grimace.

  “Where’s our naught patient?” Dr. Moriarty said jovially, walking in front of the crib as the small crowd fell silent. “Come here, Polly Wolly - time for your check-up!”

  I looked hesitantly at Nanny Susan who pointed toward Dr. Moriarty, making her meaning abundantly clear.

  “Come to mummy!” she cooed, crouching down. “Come here, Polly.”

  I crawled over to her slowly, wondering how she expected to pick me up when I was only slightly smaller than she was. I didn’t need to wonder too long - as I approached the crib, Mrs. Paezel came behind me and lifted me onto the thin mattress in the crib. When my bare feet touched the mattress, I realized it was covered in exam table paper. The paper crunched and crackled as Mrs. Paezel placed me fully in the crib.

  My dewy entrance adhered to the waxy paper making me think twice about adjusting my sitting position.

  “What a good baby,” someone from the crowd jeered.

  “Look at those little pigtails,” another voice teased. “Such a cute wittle girl!”

  “You’d almost never know she’s the same naughty girl in a dirty diaper who had her nose in the corner,” someone else laughed. “Hurry up, Jocelyn or we’ll end up going too easy on her.”

  Dr. Moriarty - Jocelyn - smiled broadly. “Please, please, ladies and gentlemen. Those of you who know me well, know there’s nothing I love more than a performance. And those of you who don’t will soon find out.”

  There were polite chuckles from the crowd.

  “Today, we will be performing an exam on little Polly who has given us some reason to think that she may not be in perfect health,” she said, projecting unnecessarily. “Therefore, we will be making sure she does not have a cold or a temperature, we will give her a quick enema and then do a routine physical response evaluation for the finale.”

  There were titters of excitement and I could only imagine what the finale would entail but it sounds like everything that would come before was more than enough.

  I sat awkwardly on the paper cover, nervously hot and bothered, as Dr. Moriarty rifled through the first and second drawers to my left. I could smell her perfume - the aroma was musky and sweet. Somehow, it brought a warmth to the cold, sterile medical set-up.

  “Polly,” she said, whirling around to face me. She was now dressed in a white lab coat and wore thick horn-rimmed glasses. “Open wide, sweetheart.”

  I opened my mouth slowly, unsure what to expect.

  She shoved a tongue compressor into my mouth so quickly that I jumped, making the thin wooden stick hit the back of my throat. I gagged, coughing as she removed it.

  “How could I have forgotten!” she exclaimed dramatically. “Little babies don’t have the self-control for medical exams.”

  There were whispers from the audience.

  She went back to the drawers, rifling through some more before producing a threatening-looking stainless steel device. She pinched my nose, forcing me to open my mouth wide to breath and shoved it inside my mouth. I heard a popping cranking sound before I realized what it was.

  “For those of you with a keen medical interest - a dental immobilizing gag can be very useful for anything that requires an open mouth,” she said, holding my arm as she offered and explanation. “Whether it’s an unruly child or a patient with a sensitive gag reflex, there’s no chomping down on this.”

  I felt the rounded steel in my mouth with my tongue and watched as Dr. Moriarty used the tongue compressor and a flashlight to look inside my gagged-open mouth.

  “Say ‘ah,’ Polly,” Nanny Susan said, amusement audible in her tone.

  I obeyed, allowing Dr. Moriarty to push the compressor deeper into my mouth.

  When I gagged a second time, she withdrew. “All clear there,” she said, putting the compressor down. “Time to take her temperature.”

  “Polly, listen to the doctor,” Nanny Susan scolded, clearly wanting a part in directing the show. “Hands and knees, please.”

  Dr. Moriarty stood to the side, allowing the party guests to watch me get on my hands and knees, facing the chest of drawers so that I was not facing the crowd and they would not get a full view of my cleanly-shaven back hole.

  “That won’t do,” the doctor said, expectantly. “The last thing I want to do is jab around her pretty little bum.”

  “Please help Dr. Moriarty,” Mrs. Paezel said. “Spread your cheeks, Polly.”

  I grimaced, lowering my face to the protective paper. There was not enough room to comply sideways so I was forced to put my face down in the back corner of the crib, giving everyone the view I had tried to avoid and reached back. I pulled my cheeks apart, my anus twitching instinctively at the group.

  “Oh, look! She’s winking at us!” Miss Patricia giggled. “What a sweet little pucker!”

  Dr. Moriarty laughed along with everyone else as she donned some gloves, letting them snap into place. I felt her cold, gloved finger press lubricant to my tight hole, swirling in small circles before pushing firmly against my sphincter. I groaned as she pushed past the resistance, feeling myself getting wetter by the second.

  The distinct sensation of her finger exiting my anus made me clench, which only made the feeling of the cold thermometer sliding in that much more unsettling.

  I waited, my cheek pressed against the crib and my hands exposing the wrinkles of my asshole as Dr. Moriarty used the thermometer to play with my rosebud. She slid it in and out at varying speeds, twisting it in her fingers until it beeped.

  She shoved it all the way in before pulling it out slowly. “Normal temperature. Luckily for us, she is not sick - simply disobedient. Hopefully, her enema will help turn our dirty girl into the angel she looked like when she arrived.”

  “I wouldn’t hold your breath,” Nanny Susan scoffed so quietly, I could have imagined it.

  “A quick enema,” Dr. Moriarty said pointedly, pulling out a small plastic enema bottle with a long nozzle. I could only imagine her sternness was directed at Nanny Susan, but with my face pressed against the exam cover, I had no way of knowing. “Because I know everyone is eager to get
to the finale.”

  There were a couple of cheers and claps.

  The plastic nozzle was pushed into place, my muscles clenching intermittently as it went deeper and deeper into my bowels. Dr. Moriarty rubbed my lower belly as she squeezed the contents of the bottle into me. I could barely feel the liquid trickling into me and the cramps were more manageable than I anticipated.

  There was little reassurance in the ease of the enema considering the looming threat of the unknown. I wondered what the ‘physical response evaluation’ was going to be. Maybe it was a haughty way to say spanking. Maybe they would have me do some embarrassing exercises in front of everyone. The more I thought about it, the less I wanted the enema to be over.

  Shortly after Dr. Moriarty removed the enema nozzle from my generously lubricated anus, she patted my thigh and beckoned me to get on my hands and knees.

  “That wasn’t so hard, was it, Polly?” she cooed, pinching my cheek. She slid something cold between my legs. “Now, please dispel the enema into this steel bowl. From the sounds of it, there shouldn’t be much more than what went in.”

  Nanny Susan and Mrs. Paezel jeered along with the rest of the party guests. I had nearly forgotten my introduction.

  In combination with the tinkling of the enema from my ass into the metal bowl in full view of my audience and the reminder that they, not only knew what I had experienced on my first day of regression therapy, but were in complete control of the rest of it. My reluctance was far outweighed by my arousal.

  In spite of myself, I looked over my shoulder at the guests - the fast movement making my pigtails brush my shoulders - just after I finished voiding my bowels of the enema.

  The twenty to thirty party-goers were all enraptured. Some were whispering to each other, one gawked and pointed, while others worse self-satisfied smirks as they looked on.