ABDL Story - Babygirl Forever

I had already wet through again before either of them came in.

The thick front of the diaper hung warm and heavy between my thighs, sagging with the weight of what I had done in my sleep, and my cock sat trapped in it, hard enough that every small shift made the wet cotton drag over the head. Twenty-seven years of locking my jaw through meetings and carrying my own rent, and here I lay on the changing mat in the living room of our flat with my knees up and my fists in the sheets because the first thing my body did every morning now was get stiff for the people who kept me.

The door opened. Rina first, hair still wet from the shower, a clean folded diaper under one arm and the wipe packet in her free hand. Mara behind her with coffee for the two of them and nothing for me. They never brought me coffee anymore. That was for people who made their own choices about the day.

“Smell that,” Rina said. “Our girl flooded herself again.”

Heat crawled up my neck. My cock jerked inside the mess and I hated the sound the padding made when it did, that soft crinkle that told on me without a single word out of my mouth.

Mara set the mugs down and crouched at my shoulder. She put two fingers under my chin and turned my face so I had to look at her. “Morning, babygirl. Show Mommy how hard you got for a wet diaper.”

I did not move.

Rina’s hand came down on the outside of the padding, firm, and pressed until the soaked bulk ground against my cock and I made a noise I had sworn I would not make. “She said show. Hands on your knees. Hold them open.”

My arms moved. The part of me that used to argue had gotten thin. I hooked my fingers under my own knees and pulled, and the diaper gaped at the sides, warm air on wet skin, and both of them looked straight down at the proof of me like it was inventory.

“There,” Mara said. “Look at that stiff little thing, trying to stand up in a mess. You used to pretend you only tolerated this. Your cock never got the memo.”

Rina peeled the tapes. The front dropped and cold air hit the sticky length of me, and a bead of clear fluid rolled down the shaft before either of them had touched it. That was the early betrayal, the one that still gutted me: arousal arriving first, honest and stupid, while my mouth was still shaping a protest that no longer had any weight.

She wiped me with the same calm she used on the kitchen counters. Each pass of the cold wipe under my balls made my hips twitch. When she cleaned the head, slow circles, I bit the inside of my cheek and still leaked onto the wipe.

“So responsive,” Rina said. “Mara, hold her cock up so I can get the crease.”

Mara’s fingers closed around me. She lifted my cock straight up off my belly like she was presenting a tool, and the grip alone made my thighs shake. Rina wiped lower, then lower still, pressing the wipe against my hole until I clenched and she clicked her tongue.

“Open. You know better.”

I bore down. The wipe went in a little. Shame and heat braided so tight I could not find the seam between them. My cock jumped in Mara’s hand and she laughed under her breath.

“She’s dripping for a wipe up the ass. Christ.”

Some hard clean voice in my head said you still have a key on the hook by the door, you could stand up and walk, you are not furniture. It arrived sharp and useless, and my body answered it by leaking another wet streak over Mara’s knuckles.

They powdered me. The soft cloud of it stuck to damp skin. Rina lifted my hips with one palm under my lower back and slid the new diaper under, thick and white and louder than the last one when she opened it. The tapes went tight. Snug. The front rose between my legs and locked my cock down against my belly in a soft prison that still left enough room for me to feel every pulse of blood.

“Tighter,” Mara said.

Rina pulled the tabs again. The bulk pressed up under my balls. I was sealed in. Kept. My cock throbbed against cotton that would not give, and the pressure alone dragged a small broken sound out of my throat.

“Sit up,” Rina said. “On your knees. Routine first. Then we talk about what forever means.”

I pushed up onto my knees on the mat. The new diaper forced my thighs apart. Mara set a small remote and a black plug on the floor between us, and next to them a pale pink wand with a fat head I already knew the feel of. Toys on the floor like silverware before a meal.

Rina stood over me. “Rules, babygirl. Say them.”

My voice came out rough. “No clothes without permission. Diaper at all times. Ask before I touch myself. Wet when I need to. Tell you when I do.”

“And the new ones,” Mara said. She crouched again, eye level, and tapped the front of my padding. “From last night. The forever ones.”

I swallowed. “I am your babygirl. I do not go back. I do not move out. I wear what you put on me. I come when you say. I am not a flatmate anymore. I am the baby of the house.”

“Good girl.” Mara’s thumb stroked the tape at my hip. “And today we start twins.”

The word landed wrong and heavy. I blinked. “Twins.”

Rina went to the hallway closet and came back with a second set of things folded in her arms: another diaper the same print as mine, a soft white top with short sleeves, and a pair of plastic pants that shone under the light. She laid them out beside me on the mat.

“Your twin arrives this afternoon,” she said. “Lena’s little. Same age as you. Already trained. Same schedule, same pad, same rules. You two will match. You two will change together. You two will kneel together when we tell you to. You wanted to be special, Noah. Now you get company in it.”

Noah. My real name in her mouth still cut. They used it when they wanted the cut. The rest of the time I was babygirl, or girl, or the soft filthy names that made my cock jump in its cage of cotton.

“I can still do this alone,” I said, and even I heard how thin it was. “I don’t need, ”

Rina put two fingers over my lips. “You need what we give you. Hands and knees. Pants down around the diaper. Ass up.”

I turned. The plastic pants came next, pulled up over the bulk until the diaper was sealed loud and shiny, and then she worked the waistband down just enough in back to bare me. Cool air on my hole. Mara’s hand spread one cheek. The tip of the plug, slick and cold, pressed against me.

“Breathe out,” Mara said.

I did. The plug pushed in, fat enough to stretch, and my cock kicked hard inside the diaper with nowhere to go. The base settled flush. Full. Owned from the inside. I dropped my forehead to the mat and the crinkle of plastic answered every small shift of my hips.

Rina turned the remote. The plug woke up low, a deep buzz that rolled through my gut and made my thighs jump. I moaned into the mat.

“There she is,” Rina said. “Our stiff little babygirl, plugged and padded, about to get a twin so she never forgets she belongs in a pair. Hold still.”

Mara slid the wand under me, between the mat and the thick front of the diaper, and switched it on high.

The world narrowed.

Vibration through wet cotton, through the trapped length of my cock, through the plug in my ass, and my arms went weak. I tried to lift off it and Mara’s free hand landed on the small of my back and pinned me down so the fat head of the wand stayed mashed against the exact place where the padding hugged my cockhead.

“Please,” I said. The word fell out raw. “Please, I can’t, it’s too, ”

“You can,” Rina said. “You will. This is what forever looks like before breakfast. You come in your diaper when we say, and then you thank us, and then you stay wet in it until your twin gets here and watches you get changed.”

The wand ground against me. The plug thrummed deeper. My cock strained and leaked and the diaper drank it, warm spots spreading, and the shame of that, of soaking myself on purpose under their hands, made me harder, which made more of it, which made me push back onto the plug like a thing with no pride left.

Mara leaned down by my ear. “Say it. Say what you are.”

“Your babygirl.” My voice cracked. “Your diapered babygirl. Please let me come. Please.”

“Not yet.” Rina turned the plug up. My vision spotted. “First you ask for the rest of it. Out loud. What do you need in that pretty hole under the plug, Noah.”

The hard clean voice tried again: you are a grown man with a job and a bank account and a spine, stop begging. It died under the wand and the wet heat and Mara’s fingers stroking my hip like she was calming an animal she already owned.

“Your cock,” I whispered. “I need your cock. Please fuck me. Please use me while I’m in this.”

“Louder.”

“Please fuck your babygirl.” It tore out of me. “Please put your cock in me. I’ll stay diapered. I’ll take a twin. I’ll be good. Just fuck me.”

Rina’s hand left the remote long enough to unbuckle. The sound of her belt. The soft heavy drop of her jeans. I turned my head enough to see the harness already on under her clothes, the thick dildo strapped tight to her hips, dark and shiny with lube she must have put on before she even walked in the room. They had planned this. The morning, the plug, the wand, the speech about forever. All of it waiting for me to break open and ask.

Mara shut the wand off. The sudden lack of it made me sob once, stupid and open. She eased the plug out of me with a slow pull that left me clenching on nothing, empty and ready and shaking on my knees in plastic pants.

Rina moved in behind me. The blunt head of the strap-on pressed to my hole, slick and wide. One of her hands settled on the back of my neck. The other gripped the waist of the plastic pants and hauled me back an inch so I could not crawl away from it.

“Last clear morning as a single little,” she said, calm as a closed door. “After this you are half of a set. After this you come on Mommy’s cock in a wet diaper while Mara holds your mouth open so you remember who feeds you. Ready, babygirl.”

It was not a question.

The head pushed. My body opened around it because it had learned to, because the weeks of plugs and fingers and their patience had trained the resistance out of the muscle even when the mind still flinched. The stretch burned sweet. My cock jerked in its soaked prison and leaked again, and Mara’s hand slid under my chin and lifted my face so I had to look at her while Rina’s strap-on began to sink into me, inch by thick inch, claiming the last dry inch of the man I kept trying to pretend still lived in this body.

“That’s it,” Mara murmured. “Take her. All the way. Then we start the rest of your life.”

Rina bottomed out with a wet seat of hips against plastic, deep enough that the base ground the diaper into my cock from behind, and she held there, buried, while my mouth fell open on a sound that was not a word and not a no, and the front door buzzed once from the hall.

Mara smiled.

“That will be your twin,” she said. “Don’t you dare come before she walks in and sees exactly what she is joining.”