PeculiarChangeling
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Stink Suit (A Totalverse Story)
🕑 Added 2022-11-05 21:42:24 +0000 UTCA bit of housekeeping/an update: Starting this November, I'm going to be a bit more flexible with the stories I post because I want to start writing The Baby Bet faster, so I might sometimes do an extra chapter of that every month in place of a standalone short story, or instead of a Totalverse short. I'll still be aiming for at least one Baby Bet chapter a month, but sometimes I will write two instead.
Anyways, on with the show!
...
Contains: Messing focus, Mild public embarrassment
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“So you’re not going to tell me how long?” I asked, practically buzzing with excitement.
I knew the answer. I wanted to hear it anyways, a confirmation of my fate. “Not even a hint, baby girl,” Daddy assured me. “If you want out, you’re going to have to earn it the hard way.”
We’d both loaded into the full VR space for this, me naked, him fully clothed, and simply spawning the outfit onto my body didn’t feel intimate enough. He wanted to dress me for the occasion.
The diaper was the obvious part, and my princess parts twitched just at the sight of the fluffy, plastic-rustling item in his hands. I knew this would be the hard part–the real test was of my willpower, whether I’d be able to make it through without breaking, and judging by how turned on I was just at the start, that was looking unlikely.
Still, I wouldn’t give up. I let Daddy push me down onto the floor, raised my bottom off the ground, let him wrap me up in the diaper. The tapes were secured down, sticking in place, snug and cozy around my hips.
This was only the foreplay. Next came the object that filled me with both dread and intense, burning excitement.
It started with a plastic cover, all black save for the pink biohazard warning printed on the front. An indicator of things to come, I knew. He pulled it up my legs, and with a satisfying click, locked the cover over my waist.
There was no key. Instead, it’d been programmed to only unlock if I was able to go without making stickies for…
I didn’t know how long. A few days. Maybe a week. Daddy hadn’t told me, and I’d asked him not to.
But that wasn’t nearly the least of it, because the back of the black plastic had a large open valve on the back. Daddy rolled me onto my tummy, and I felt another click as a bifurcated pink length of tubing was locked into place onto the valve.
Daddy took my face in his hands and pulled it up, so that he could lower a large, solid mask over my nose and mouth. I could feel the rubber make a firm seal over the bridge of my nose, see just the edge of the plastic shell in the edges of my vision, and smell the stale air and slightly chemical plastic odor.
One more ‘click’, as the mask’s harness latched into place over the back of my face, pulling the seal tightly against my skin. Every breath I took would be through this mask, and through a mix of snug design and simple programming, I could not remove it of my own volition.
Finally, Daddy lifted both ends of the split hose, and with a pair of clicks, locked it into the valves on my mask.
A simple conduit was formed, pulling air from around the seat of my diaper up through the hose, directly to my nostrils. I heard a fan whirr to life, and immediately my sense of smell was assaulted by a puff of baby powder and fresh diaper odor.
I squirmed. “Does my voice sound funny?”
In my own ears, the words sounded muted and muffled, but Daddy shook his head. “I can hear you loud and clear, princess. You’re all dressed up now, so remember–if you cum into your diaper, the clock will reset, and if you decide to give up, I’m going to put your cage back onto you for three months.”
Swallowing, I nodded. I’d asked for this–I wanted the humiliation, the looming threat of what would happen as my diaper stayed on.
We exited VR, and I examined myself. The AR was imperfect, but close enough–I could still feel my diaper wedged between my thighs, hear the rustle, smell the baby powder scent being pumped up to my nostrils, but a slight cognitive overlap existed. My normal clothes existed overtop the simulated rubber and absorbent matter, and looking down, my diaper and cover seemed to clip through the bottom of my dress.
“I’ll see if anyone has better fabric simulation code,” Daddy said.
“It doesn’t bother me,” I replied. “Honestly, I’d almost feel bad asking for anything better than this.”
I reached down, feeling the front of my diaper through its plastic cover, where my princess parts burned with already-all consuming desire. “So…” I said. “If the timer resets when I cum…”
Daddy smirked, scooting up next to me. “I think I see where this is headed. Should we take this upstairs before you use up any more time?”
Nodding eagerly, I got to my feet.
…
My desire for restraint held out only for a couple hours against my burning need to give in to my desires.
I felt the first cramps the next morning, and knew by the end of the day that my diaper would be full. Already I’d been huffing the stale odor of pee that’d soaked into my thirsty padding, but I wanted the desperate degradation that would come from packing that diaper seat until it bulged in its cover.
On the other hand, I had no idea how long I was expected to keep this going. I could be stuck in this suit for days, and no matter how artificial the simulation, it still felt totally real to me. The mask strapped to my face wasn’t precisely comfortable, but worse than that, I didn’t know if I’d be dooming myself to be stuck far past the point where it stopped being fun if I gave in too early.
I finally gave in a little after lunchtime, when the busy rush for my delivery job had died down. Ducking into a gas station bathroom, I fumbled through the simulation to pull down the clothes I wore in reality–plain jeans and underwear–and sat down on the toilet.
As far as I could feel, my diaper squelched against the seat, and when I leaned forward a little and pushed, warm, solid mush swelled in the seat of my diaper.
The fans in the rig whirred to life, and the sensory results were almost instant. The foul, earthy stink from my rapidly-filling diaper assaulted my nostrils, and my eyes fluttered with deep pleasure and humiliation as I inhaled. My princess parts hummed with need, pleading that I indulge in the moment fully, but my self control fought that need back.
I knew, if I gave in, that this would stop being fun and start being torture, that the only thing that could make this continue to be bearable–or even desirable–was my own burning desire. Were I to give in and grind against the front of my squelching, sagging diaper for a minute or two, I’d be trading who-knows-how-many days of discomfort for a mere moment of satisfaction.
Standing, I flushed the toilet and pulled my pants up, struggling to close the button and zip them up over the bulk of my diaper, feeling the denim press my overfull padding against my body.
Anyone who saw me would just see a girl in jeans with an inexplicable blush. They didn’t know that I was constantly huffing in the fumes of my own humiliation.
Unable to keep my desires to myself, I texted Daddy. ‘Something happened…’
His response came swiftly. ‘Aww, did you make a stinky diaper? Breathe deep, baby girl. You only need to wait another–oh, right, it’s a surprise. Enjoy!’
Squirming, I considered pleading for a hint as to how long I’d be trapped with a direct conduit from the seat of my diaper to my own burning nostrils, but I knew he wouldn’t tell. That was his secret to keep, and mine to wonder about.
All I can say is, for the rest of the work day, I was extremely distracted.
…
“Please?” I whimpered, kneeling at Daddy’s feet. Another day had passed, and my diaper had swollen even further. The saturated, sodden padding around my princess parts had me blushing at every slight movement, and my constant stink had saturated my thoughts, slowly forcing out my ability to think of anything beyond my predicament.
I’d wondered if I would go noseblind, but the sensation was so intense that it hadn’t had the opportunity to occur, and as I re-loaded my diaper up, packing it fuller, the stink refreshed itself. At least rash wasn’t a problem–we’d left that off the simulation on purpose, and my skin wouldn’t rash from simulated mess.
Daddy smirked down at me. “I’m sorry, baby girl, but no. We can’t take your mask off and let you forget what a stinker you are, can we?”
“But…” I stammered. “But I want to…”
There were technically ways to object to his conclusion. I was able to partially ignore the simulation when I needed to eat or drink, suspending the simulation of the rubber mask strapped over my nose and mouth for long enough to get fuel into my body, but that was only due to necessity.
And as much as I claimed otherwise, having Daddy’s cock in my mouth wasn’t a necessity.
I knew it was a point of contention for him too–all his favorite holes were occupied and covered up–but he got more satisfaction out of seeing me whimper and plead than from giving in to my begging.
All I knew was that I wanted pleasure, and if I couldn’t get it for myself, then focusing that energy on satisfying Daddy would have to serve as a sufficient substitute.
Eyes huge and desperate, I asked, “Can I use my hands then?”
He smiled broadly and nodded down at me. “Maybe…but first I need you to beg a little more for me.”
…
Four days.
Four.
I was on my last day until the weekend came, which was good, because my brain had been utterly consumed by one thing and one thing only, and that left little room for work.
I stank. The smell of my diaper had drifted in through my nose and replaced my adult thoughts. I felt perpetually high, the perpetual cloud of mushy odors intoxicating. To do anything other than whimper and grind into my diaper took active, constant effort, and the desire to slip further into the smelly haze sang to me like a constant siren song.
Near the end of my work day, I stopped into a gas station restroom, sinking into my massive mess over the toilet seat. I had to stifle a moan, my face burning red as I pushed out even more mass into my diaper. By now, it just seemed to vanish into the ever-swelling mountain of smushy weight, but this one seemed more intense than ever–more solid, more squelchy, more smelly.
Wandering out of the bathroom in a daze, I finished the last two deliveries and puttered home, waddling heavily inside.
Daddy was already there, and when he looked up at me, his expression went from amusement to surprise. “Baby girl–”
“Hi, Daddy,” I said, falling into his arms. This was where I wanted to be.
“Baby,” he repeated, reaching down to squeeze the back of my diaper. “Erm…you forgot to pull down your pants.”
I blinked, confused. I…what? But my diaper…
Oh…
Oh no…
My diaper wasn’t real. I knew that. But I’d forgotten to slip off my pants and underwear last time I used the toilet, and while I loaded up my simulated diaper, I also messed myself, in real life, without noticing.
My face flushed bright red, blushing from forehead to chin. “I–um–”
“Shh, it’s okay,” Daddy said, hugging me tighter. “I doubt anyone noticed. This is why you need diapers, silly.”
Thinking back to strange expressions in the gas station I’d stopped to use the bathroom at, I wasn’t so sure, but I didn’t argue. Sniffing, I got a pure whiff of my stink. “How much longer, Daddy?”
He paused. “Alright, I’ll tell you. I’d planned on making you wait until the end of the weekend, but if you’re too overwhelmed we can stop now.”
The weekend… Two and a half days, give or take.
I could wait that long.
I shook my head. “I can make it, Daddy.”
He smiled. “Alright, then, but let’s get you into a real diaper too–can’t have you ruining anymore of your big girl clothes, can we?”
Nodding, I followed him to the bedroom to get clean, without really getting clean at all.
…
No thinking, just stinking.
I could barely move. I’d gone past horny, any slight movement and squelch sent shivers down my spine. I was just a smelly, drooling thing, my mind overtaken by the state of my diaper. I’d lost track of whether my real, non-simulated diaper was clean or dirty. All I knew was stink, and sniff, and whimper.
Daddy walked in, returning from…something. I didn’t know how long he’d been gone. He looked at me, surprised. “Have you been sitting there since I left?”
I nodded, pawing impotently at the front of my bulging diaper, through the rustling plastic cover.
“I’ve been gone for three hours,” he said. “What were you doing?”
Opening my mouth, I mumbled a response, something like, ‘Stinking’, though the words were jumbled.
Smirking, Daddy crouched down in front of me. “I think you’ve been a good girl all week,” he said. “Filling your diapers like a champ. Are you ready for your reward?”
My…reward? I fought to focus my thoughts. He meant…OH! YES!
Nodding eagerly, I said, “Please?”
Daddy toggled something, and then reached up and pinched his nose. “Oh, it’s–escaping the suit, some. How can you breathe?”
I just nodded again, eyes huge and pleading.
Reaching down, Daddy pressed his hand into the front of my diaper, squelching everything against my princess parts. “You may, baby girl.”
That was all the permission I needed. Throwing myself into the act, I began to rock into his hand, humping the front of my diaper furiously.
I didn’t need long. I’d practically been edging for a week. Fire and ice and pleasure so intense it turned my limbs to jelly rolled through me, and I collapsed forward, into Daddy’s arms.
I wrinkled my nose. “Um–”
He pulled the mask free of my face, and I got my first whiff of comparatively clean air in a week. From his own expression, the smell was still bad, but the intensity was so comparatively minor that to me it was fresh daisies and spring wind.
Kissing me on the forehead, Daddy said, “You did good, baby girl. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” I replied. “Can we do this again sometime?”
He nodded. “Of course, baby girl.”
I squirmed in delight.
