Abby – Chapter Five
Miles stood against the railing, watching me cry. Through my hands I caught sight of his disorientated expression. He wasn’t smiling anymore. His mouth was slightly open. It looked like he was going to talk but, minute after minute of tears running down my cheeks, he kept quiet.
To hold onto some dignity, I removed my wet backside from his view by slipping to the hard balcony floor and putting my knees to my chest. It wasn’t the smartest move while wearing a dress, but I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care about anything anymore.
“Do you need help?” Miles softly asked, caution in his voice.
It made me cry harder. The last thing I wanted him to think was that I was helpless, that I needed to be taken care of. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
“Listen,” he continued carefully, “we can get you inside… and act like it never happened.”
“And how do you intend we get in,” I asked through sobs. Aside from that flaw, his plan sounded perfect. I don’t want him to remember this part of our otherwise perfect evening.
“We’ll knock on the door,” he said skeptically.
“From what you told me, Alice should be close. She can let us in.” I broke into more hysterics. The boy of my dreams watching me wet myself was bad enough. Now I have to deal with my best friend seeing me like this? Without regard to my reaction, he strode past me to the door and jiggled the handle. The door clicked open. Looking down at me, he gave me a strange look, then a small half smile. I stared up at him in amazement. I wanted to thank him, but now wasn’t the time. Scrambling off the ground, I dashed past him before he could say a word.
No one saw me run to my room. Alice wasn’t anywhere nearby, the few guests that hadn’t left had made their way to the front door, and the other three maids weren’t wandering the hallways. I was so relieved when I finally clicked the door shut behind me. No one saw me… except Miles. I sulked.
Now wasn’t the time for sulking either. I had to figure out what to do. Alice does my laundry; she’d notice a wet dress. I couldn’t hide it either; she cleans my room top to bottom. I pondered for a moment and came up empty. Instead I prioritized.
Getting into something dry was my main concern. Heading over to the closet, I managed to slip my dress off and plop it on the floor until I found a hiding place. Then I scanned my closet for suitable pajamas. I was rushing, so I finally decided on a pink pair of loose fitting, heart designed pajama pants with a tank top in the same color. Next I moved to my dresser and yanked out the first pair of underwear I touched. They were a pale purple with lace on the seat. I didn’t have time to object. Alice would be looking for me soon.
Throwing the clothes onto my bed, I put my thumbs inside the tights. Before I had a chance to pull them down my legs, my thumbs grew hot and I pulled my hands away like someone would with a hot stove burner. I tried again, but fire coursed through my hands.
“What the hell,” I couldn’t help saying aloud.
I tried again when the pain subsided, but the same thing happened. Whenever my hand touched the tights it would get a burning sensation. I couldn’t keep my hands on them long enough to move the tights even an inch down my legs.
I tried a different tactic. Taking a pencil off my dresser, I slipped it into the waistband of my tights. Nothing hurt. I proceeded to slowly maneuver the tights down my hips, but when they got about halfway down one side my butt felt the same sharp burns as my hands had. I quickly removed the pencil and the tights snapped back into place around my waist. The fire on my backside dissipated slower than my hands had, and in no time I was crying. I tried to rub the seat of my tights, but whenever my hand touched the dampness both my hands and backside began to burn all over again. Finally, after I had burst into complete hysterics, the fire died.
Then the door clicked open and Alice called in.
“Abby?” She sounded worried.
“Are you in here?” I didn’t reply, and I didn’t want her to find me, but my sobbing gave it away. She hurried into the room and let out a small gasp. I sat before her in nothing but a lacey white bra and the saturated tights and panties around my hips. Her eyes wandered to the wet dress on my floor, then the dry clothes laying on my bed, then back to me.
“Oh, Abby…” she cooed. My eyes dropped to the floor.
“Sweetie, this isn’t good. The Master is not going to like this.”
“Pwease, no tell Daddy!” I shouted. Then I covered my mouth. I wouldn’t have believed I had spoken like that if Alice’s jaw hadn’t dropped.
It was silent for a short amount of time. Alice waited until my tears stopped. I waited until her mouth closed. Then, when we both had calmed ourselves, the silence broke.
“Let’s go,” she said lightly.
“Pwease…” I pleaded; I avoided using too many words because of the new form of speech I had acquired.
“I am instructed to bring you to the Master if you behave like a baby,” she said without looking at me.
“The way you talk and the condition of your apparel is equal to that of a baby.” I sat in astonishment. I behaved like a baby? No. None of this was intentional. Nothing was voluntary… as is the same with a real baby. I sunk deeper into my depression.
“Now, Abigail.” I knew not to backtalk when she used my full name.
I stood slowly and slipped a robe on over my half naked body.
“The dress, Abby,” Alice whispered.
“The Master will want you in it.” I whimpered and changed out of the robe and into the wet dress I had thrown to the floor earlier. I cringed when I looked in the mirror and noticed the back. I knew the damp spot was visible, but I didn’t know it was so obvious that I had indeed wet my dress.
Alice left the room, motioning for me to follow. I walked a few paces behind her, scanning the halls for the other maids. I didn’t want them to see me like this, especially Madeline. I would never live it down.
Then we were outside Daddy’s room. Alice knocked twice and the door opened slowly. She led the way down the corridor of pillars and I shied out of sight behind her. When we reached Daddy, he was sitting in his chair, wearing in one of his fashionable tuxedos he puts on for the dances. Alice announced us.
“Sir,” Alice began formally, “I found Abby in her room wearing a wet outfit and speaking like a child after the dance festivities. I am unaware of her actions after serving the attendees.” Daddy raised an eyebrow.
“Really, Abigail?” he questioned.
“Come here.” I reluctantly stepped out from behind Alice and walked up to Daddy. I kept my eyes on the ground as he told me to turn, stop, and move this way and that. My dress was lifted as he examined the wet tights and underwear and then dropped the dress back down again. He turned me toward him, lifted my chin, and looked in my eyes.
“What happened,” he asked casually.
I didn’t want to speak. I knew how it would leave my lips, even though my mind spoke correctly. I knew Daddy wouldn’t approve of me kissing Miles. But what I knew more than anything was that if I didn’t cooperate, I would be punished.
“Well, Daddy,” I began quietly, “I met dis one boy, and I weally wike him. We danced twice and talked and den he wanted to go ousside. I told him I not supposed to go ousside at night, but I did anyway. Den we kissed and I wets myself.”
“You are not allowed to kiss boys,” he calmly stated.
“You are too young.”
“I not too young!” I argued.
“I seventeen and me should kiss boys!”
“Well, your wet outfit speaks for itself. You obviously cannot be trusted to behave like a big girl should.”
“Dat’s not fair!”
“And have you been cursing?” I nodded slowly, thinking back to when I said ‘hell’ earlier before Alice walked into my bedroom.
“Mature adults do not swear,” he plainly stated.
“But me did it juss once!” I whined in a futile attempt to defend myself.
“Abigail,” Daddy began assertively, shutting me up.
“If you insist on wetting your clothing and talking like a child, I have no choice but to treat you like a baby.” I opened my mouth to object, but Daddy cut me off.
“I will not have you ruining the clothes I purchase for you because you do not know how to use the toilet, and I am most certainly not going to allow my employees to respect you as a mature adult if you can’t be troubled to speak like one. From this point, until further notice, you will be under Alice’s complete care. There is a special procedure she will follow, and objections from you will be useless. Since you have no idea how to behave like an adult, you will be treated as a baby.”
“Dat’s not fair!” I screamed.
“Alice,” he called calmly.
“Take Baby Abby to her new bedroom.”
“I not a baby!” I yelled at the top of my lungs in my childish tone.
“Abby,” Alice called a few steps away from me.
“Now.”
“Alice… pwease…” I begged.
“Abigail.” Her voice was hard.
“Do not make this worse.” Trembling, I gave a slight curtsey in my damp dress to Daddy as a sign of respect, and stomped off after Alice. We walked in complete silence down hallways we rarely go through. Doors lined both sides of the each corridor. Door after door went by, and we kept walking. My paranoia had gotten the best of me and I couldn’t keep my eyes from scanning for the other maids. After what seemed like an eternity, Alice stopped at a door that looked just like every other one aside from a small pink flower painted in the center, and twisted the handle.
My new bedroom, as Daddy had called it, would never be considered anything but a nursery. The walls, from the ceiling to the carpet, was painted a pale pink. White wallpaper with blocks and teddy bears lined the top of each wall, dropping about nine inches from the ceiling over the pink canvas. Even the curtains that hung over the window on the wall opposite the doorway I stood in had prints of rattles and baby blocks printed on the fabric.
But what really took me by surprise was the furniture. Against the wall to the right stood a wooden, white crib, complete with plastic sheets and a mobile. On the opposing wall, there was an oversized changing table, big enough to fit both Lily and Lola at once. There were closed cabinet doors beneath the changing table top, which had been covered with a small layer of padding for added comfort. The last piece of furniture was an extremely large playpen, lying in the center of the floor. It was nearly as tall as I was, and if it weren’t for the small door on the side I wouldn’t know how someone would be put in it.
“Wh… what is all dis?” I stammered.
“Your new bedroom,” she responded in all seriousness.
“But… I not a baby, Alice!”
“Yes, Abby, you are.”
The End of Abby – Chapter Five.
If you want to read more stories about ABDL girls you can find a list here: Diaper Girls – Index
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