PeculiarChangeling
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Claire's Challenge (A Hypnosis Story)
🕑 Added 2022-09-17 05:10:17 +0000 UTCThis is the somewhat belated prize for the poll/form I did a couple months ago!
Contains: Wetting, messing, bath time, high-chair feeding, mental regression
Martin smiled and swaggered up to the car, standing by the passenger side. “May I get the door for you?”
Claire hesitated. Is that–no, it couldn’t be, it’s too obvious. “Thank you.”
He opened the door, and she got in, sitting down in the front passenger seat of Martin’s car.
She immediately noticed the adult carseat in the back. It was wide enough that it took up a seat and a half of normal space, with a five point harness to buckle in…whoever would sit there. Claire suspected that Martin would try to maneuver her into it on their way home, but she was resolutely prepared not to.
He shut the door, and the game officially began.
Their ‘date night’ was, on the surface, just that. Dinner out at a nice restaurant, and then they’d go home and see where the night took them, but that was only the start. Claire had been issued a challenge, and she fully intended to succeed.
Her mind was a steel trap, she’d insisted. Hypnosis wouldn’t work on her, she’d see it coming and resist the compulsions.
Martin had doubted her, and so they’d made the agreement. There were no stakes–she just wanted to prove she could do it. He’d hypnotize her, and she’d resist it, and get bragging rights for eternity. Besides, she liked a little ageplay, and since this arrangement meant she’d be wearing a diaper out on their date, she couldn’t complain.
But that was all. He wouldn’t get to regress her, and she’d be just as grown up and in command of her faculties come Monday morning as she was on Friday night.
She just had to make sure to fight the hypnosis.
“How are you feeling?” Martin asked, as he got buckled into the driver’s seat. “All grown up? Mature? Like a big girl?”
Big girl–Claire thought. That had to be one of his trigger words. It was going to make her…what would it make me do, exactly?
She took stock of herself. She didn’t feel any more little, any younger. “I feel fine,” she said, considering how the words felt when she said them. “I’m perfectly adult, thank you very much.”
It felt true. He probably hadn’t compelled her to do anything at all.
“Well we’ll see how the night goes,” Martin said. “I can’t remember, have we gone to this restaurant before?”
“The pie place, right?” she asked. “No, you’ve just told me about it.”
“Their lemonade’s to die for, and–oh, when I was a little kid, we would come here and just get dessert.” He shrugged. “It’s not the classiest, but it’s fun.”
Little kid, Claire considered. Or maybe ‘it’s fun’? There had to be some sort of correlation between the words and the effect on her, but she still didn’t feel any more ‘little’, any more suggestible.
“Oh,” she said, thinking of a question as she felt her diaper grow warm and soggy. “Are their restrooms, eh, family friendly? I might need to use their changing table, I’m a little wet.”
Martin pursed his lips. “Eh…”
“What?” Claire asked.
“I forgot to bring a change for you,” he said. “Do you think you’ll hold up through dinner? Or do we need to get you some baby bottoms from the store?”
“Probably,” she conceded. Wait–
No, no way. ‘Baby Bottoms’ couldn’t be a trigger word, it was just too obvious. Besides, nothing had changed–she was still herself, the same adult woman she’d been, and it’s not like he’d made her wet her diaper–she just hadn’t been able to hold it.
He smirked.
“What?” Claire asked, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t think you can slide anything past me. I’ve got my eye on you.”
“We’ll see,” Martin replied.
They got to the restaurant. Martin got out and moved to open Claire’s door for her, but she got it herself–she could get her own doors, she was mature enough for that. He extended his hand, and she eyed it warily.
“Shall we?” he offered.
Is it more juvenile to hold his hand while we walk across the parking lot?
She thought back–no, they always held hands together. It was just a couples thing, not a hypnosis effect. She took it, walking with him to the restaurant.
Dinner went smoothly. Claire raised her eye at every little comment–was his order suspicious? Did he mention a particular film because the description included a hypnosis trigger?–but nothing struck her as obviously suspicious, and her diaper managed to hold up perfectly well with no concern of leaking.
“They always do a fancy thing with dessert here,” Martin said, “If you’re hungry–it’s like a brownie with a bunch of sparklers in it and ice cream on top, it’s delicious.”
Claire shook her head. The meal had her stuffed, and she was ready to get going. “Maybe another time–I did enjoy the food here, I’d definitely come back.”
Their waiter stepped up, beaming. “Could I interest either of you in our firework fudge slide?”
“No thanks, just–” Claire started to respond, then blushed. Come on, not right now! Her body had decided that just then was the time to use her diaper. She paused–had Martin–No, he didn’t even say anything. This is why I’m wearing a diaper, right?
Still, her cheeks turned pink as her body chose to humiliate her, helplessly emptying her bowels into the padding beneath her dress.
“Just the check,” Martin cut in. “Thanks.”
“Sure thing, I’ll bring that right over,” the waiter replied.
Bright pink, Claire buried her face in her hands, squirming as the mush settled in her diaper, spreading out beneath her weight. The smell wasn’t too intense, but it hit her nostrils and she couldn’t pretend not to notice.
“Oh no,” Martin said, speaking in a low voice so that nobody else would hear. “You couldn’t make it to the potty?”
“Ugh,” Claire replied. Wait–did he say ‘potty’ to make me do something? She started to stand, to go change herself in the bathroom, before remembering she didn’t have a spare diaper to change into. “Oh, I get it.”
Martin raised his eyebrows. “Get what?”
“That’s a dirty trick,” Claire shot. “You didn’t use any hypnosis commands at all, you just set me up by forgetting my–”
Their water walked over, dropping off the check. He paused, sniffing the air for a moment, then left them with the bill.
“My diaper,” Claire finished with a hiss, squirming uncomfortably. “I was so focused on the commands that I didn’t think you’d pull anything else, jerk!”
Martin smirked, taking out his wallet and placing a card on the check. “That was pretty clever of me, wasn’t it?”
“You know I don’t like sitting around in–” Claire fell silent and sat back again as their waiter picked up the check, hurrying off to run the card. “In a messy diaper.”
“You could have packed your own diaper bag, sweetheart,” Martin replied. “But y’know–the bet was to regress you, I don’t have to use hypnosis.”
“Well, savor it while you can,” Claire shot back. “Because you’re still not going to mess with my head.”
With their card back, Martin helped Claire up and they walked out to his car. Before getting the door for her, though, he paused, reaching down and squeezing the back of her dress.
“Hmm,” he said. “Baby, you’re about to leak.”
“Am not–” Claire started, but a little wiggle to feel how her diaper sagged confirmed that he was right. “Okay, maybe I am.”
“You know what that means,” Martin said. “So we don’t ruin the seats.”
“Not fair,” Claire fumed, opening the back door. She was going to have to sit in the waterproof, stain-proof car seat.
Grinning triumphantly, Martin helped her into the seat, pushing her down–smushing her into her messy diaper–and buckling the five point harness around her body. She wriggled uncomfortably, all her weight sunk into her poopy bottom, but there wasn’t a better option until she could change into a fresh diaper.
Pulled into her seat, Claire could do little but pout on their way home. She’d been thoroughly outmaneuvered, manipulated into her carseat by simply ‘forgetting’ to bring a diaper change. Focusing on the hypnosis triggers had led her to forget the realities of her diaper dependance, and now she was stewing in the results of her oversight, nose wrinkled, arms crossed over her chest.
Martin parked in the garage, crossed around to her door, and helped her out of the car, giving the front of her diaper a grope in the process. “You’re about ready to burst, baby,” he cautioned. “Let’s go get you clean, okay?”
She grumbled, noticing how he waved his hand in front of his nose while she got to her feet, waddling behind him. “I can clean myself up,” she said.
“I won’t make you accept my help, but isn’t it so much easier to have the extra hand?” he asked.
Hesitating, Claire reviewed his words in her head. She didn’t feel a compulsion that ran counter to what she’d just said. She really could tell him no, but it also was true that having an extra set of hands would help.
“No,” she said, testing the reaction.
“Alright,” Martin agreed, opening the door from the garage to their house. “If that’s–”
“Fine, yes,” Claire said. “I just wanted to make sure I could say no.”
He laughed. “You don’t trust me?”
She smiled back at him. “When you answer like that? Not at all.”
Before long, he had hot water filling their bathtub and a changing pad laid out on the bathroom floor. Martin slipped off dress, helped remove her socks, and finally laid her down so that he could remove her diaper without making a mess of the bathroom. Four tapes came off, and then the wipes got her clean enough to transition to the tub without polluting the bathwater.
“I can handle cleaning myself up just fine,” Claire pointed out, when Martin reached for a washcloth.
He shrugged. “Fine, just don’t stay in too long or your fingers will get all pruney.”
Claire shrugged him off, going about the process of getting her body clean. There was one general nuisance, though, that made her regret sending Martin away–it was inconvenient to try and wash herself off with her thumb in her mouth.
She liked to relax and unwind when she took a bath, and suckling on her thumb was certainly a part of that, but doing that while trying to soap and scrub meant either some weird stretching or shifting from thumb to thumb so she could pass the washcloth back and forth.
Still, she stubbornly stuck it out, refusing to give in and ask Martin for help. That was just the sort of thing he’d tease her about, and she didn’t need more teasing after such an embarrassing accident at the restaurant.
Clean, she got dry and went to the bed, where Martin had already laid out her ‘pajamas’. The thick, fluffy nighttime diaper stuck out like a sore thumb, a reminder of her trouble holding it, and the onesie next to it was barely noteworthy. It helped keep things in place and prevented midnight leaks–as much as she might complain, there wasn’t much she could do about it.
“Oh, baby,” Martin said, glancing over at her. “Did you lose your pacifier?”
She looked down cross-eyed at her hand, thumb lodged firmly in her mouth. “Uh…”
“Here,” Martin walked to their dressed, removed a pink pacifier, and handed it to her. “It’s better for your teeth.”
She accepted the pacifier, blushing slightly as she plopped it between her lips. “Thanks, sweetie.”
“You’re welcome, baby girl. Let’s get you ready for bed, okay?”
…
Claire yawned as she awoke, stretching in bed. Sunlight streamed through the windows, and when she sat up, she caught a distinct whiff of fresh pancakes.
Rolling out of bed, she felt the weight of her diaper sagging under her onesie–she’d definitely used it about to capacity, though it could wait until after she’d eaten before she got changed. Picking up her pacifier, she plopped it between her lips, waddling steadily out of the bedroom.
She felt as though she were forgetting something. They had plans this weekend, she knew, but the specifics had left her. Something about…doing things with Daddy? That seemed right.
Stepping into the kitchen, she smiled at Martin, who glanced over from the stove and smiled back. “Hey there, baby girl–breakfast is just about ready, I was about to come wake you.”
She nodded, stretching her arms again. Her high chair was right next to the table, and…
Has that always been there?
“Do you need a hand, baby girl?” Martin extended his hand to her, and she smiled, taking it and getting up into her chair. He buckled the tray over her lap, got her secure and safe, and leaned in to kiss her on the forehead. “Do you need help with the fork?”
She shook her head, then paused, looking at the plastic fork on the tray. Experimentally, she picked it up, holding the utensil clumsily in her fist. “Um…”
“It’s okay, I’ll help you,” he promised, returning to the stove to get pancakes.
Claire’s brain felt fuzzy, like it’d been swaddled in a warm blanket. A knot began to form in her stomach while she waited, but then it passed, and Martin returned with food. She giggled as he set out the tray of pancakes, gently slipped the fork out of her hand, and cut up a bite of pancake.
“Open wide,” he coaxed.
Obeying, she took a bite, then laughed when she saw that Martin was making a face. “Wha’?” she asked, over a mouthful of food.
Waving a hand in front of his nose, he said, “You need a change, baby girl–but it’s okay. We’ll finish up feeding you first, then get you all cleaned up, okay?”
She nodded happily. That sounded fine–she didn’t mind being a little stinky, and the pancakes were more delicious.
Martin continued to feed her, and she ate up every bite. She loved her daddy, and couldn’t wait for the rest of the weekend–if she could just remember what she’d been trying to do.
